


The King in the North Rises

by Joan_of_Arc



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Red Wedding, F/M, Mention of Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:44:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joan_of_Arc/pseuds/Joan_of_Arc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the death of his older brother, Bran Stark becomes King in the North. With the aid of his family, he has to face up to the challenges of such position: reorganize a war-torn Kingdom, mend relationships with the Kingdom of the South, repel an invasion attempt by Stannis Baratheon, tackle a dark threat from beyond the wall, and deal with his inner demons. Will a boy of barely ten years of age be up to the challenge? </p><p>Sequel to The North Will Rise Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The King in the North Rises

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to The North Will Rise Again. You do not have to read my previous story, but it might help ...
> 
> Warning: mention of past abuse. It is not described here, but there is reference to the fact that Catelyn was severely mistreated while being held captive at the Twins.

**_Recap: The North Will Rise Again_** :

 

Tywin Lannister did not plan the Red Wedding and he did not aid the Freys in their betrayal of the Northern Army. The Freys were supposed to hold the King in the North so an end to the war could be negotiated, not butcher them. Angry at the Freys, the Lannisters spied on the Twins and intercepted a package being sent to the Boltons at the Dreadfort.

 

Inadvertently, Tywin and Tyrion Lannister ended up rescuing Catelyn Stark, who had been spared at the massacre at the wedding but had been kept captive at the Twins, where she had suffered greatly. While recuperating at Tywin Lannister’s camp she was reunited with her daughter Sansa, who had escaped King’s Landing with Tyrion after being accused of killing King Joffrey at his own wedding. The Lannisters and Catelyn Stark contacted the Tullys at Riverrun for a meeting to discuss peace terms. There, Catelyn was reunited with her other daughter, Arya. It was decided the land would be divided in two separate Kingdoms: The South ruled by King Tommen Baratheon, who succeeded Joffrey; and The North ruled by King Brandon Stark who, along with his brother Rickon and a wildling woman called Osha, had been hiding in Last Hearth under the protection of the Umbers.

 

After agreeing to these terms, the newly regrouped northern army marched on to Winterfell to reclaim it from the Boltons, aided by a large contingent of Tully men led by The Blackfish, some men from the Eyre supplied by Lysa Arryn, and some of Tyrion’s mountain clansmen led by Bronn the Sellsword, who had befriended Catelyn Stark and decided to remain in the North. Upon arrival they found out Ramsay Bolton had fled to the Dreadfort and retaking Winterfell was a walk in the park. All the men from the Eyre, the Riverlands and the mountain clansmen returned to their lands while the Stark ladies remained in Winterfell together with the some Northern Lords, Catelyn’s uncle and Bronn, who had been knighted and become Catelyn’s personal guard.

 

It was the dawn of a new era: The North would rise again under a new King in the North.

 

 

**_ 1) The King in the North Rises.  _ **

 

Brynden Tully, dressed in his red and blue Tully colours but wearing his black trout sigil, acting in his capacity as Hand of the King, had just officially named Bran Stark King in the North.

 

“It is my greatest pleasure to introduce you to your King, Brandon Stark,” he addressed the excited crowd gathered in Winterfell’s Main Hall. After so many moons of wars, invasions, sacking and starvation, the people of the North were pleased to see all the suffering coming to an end. Brandon Stark, eldest surviving son of Lord Eddard Stark was being crowned King in the North to the roaring clap and loud cheering of his subjects.

 

Bran knew these people were his father’s followers and he had to gain their trust with good leadership and a steady hand. He was a child of barely ten years of age, but fortunately, he was not alone.

 

His mother’s uncle, Brynden “The Blackfish” Tully, a seasoned veteran of many wars and previous advisor to Lysa Arryn at the Eyre had been named Hand of the King. His own mother, Catelyn Stark, would be Queen Regent until he came of age. She was a very organized and pragmatic woman who had become Lady of Riverrun at a very early age when her mother had passed and then had been a great support to Lord Eddard Stark when they married and she became Lady of Winterfell. This war had taken a toll on her and had caused her many grievous losses (namely her husband and her eldest son) and she had suffered greatly at the hands of the Freys during her captivity, but she had come out of her ordeal a stronger and more cautious woman.

 

He also had the support of all the Northern Lords, most of whom were present at his coronation: the Umbers, the Karstarks, the Maderlys, the Mormonts, the Dustins (their long lasting feud with the Starks apparently forgotten and forgiven), the Hornwoods, the Flints, the Reeds, etc. Many people from these Houses had fought and died alongside his brother, the previous King in the North, Robb Stark. Many of them had been prisoners of war and had just been released from dungeons at the Twins and King’s Landing and were now cheering proudly for their new King.

 

Conspicuously absent were the Boltons, who had betrayed Robb and played a huge and decisive role in the Red Wedding and the murder of the previous King. Also, Roose Bolton’s bastard son, Ramsey Snow, had taken Winterfell from the Ironborn and had ruled with an iron fist, putting many of its inhabitants to the sword. The Boltons had not been punished for their crimes yet, but Bran knew this was an issue he would have to address soon.

 

He had been apprehensive when he first arrived at Winterfell after spending so many moons hiding in Last Hearth. Together with Osha and Hodor, both Bran and Rickon had made their escape from Winterfell when Theon had attacked. Hodor, the sweet but soft minded stable boy had carried him all the way to Last Hearth and Osha had taken care of them all the while. He was not so young as not to remember his family and his life before the war, but he did feel bad that his younger brother Rickon had little recollection of their lives before their family fell apart. His brother had fonder memories of Osha than he did of his mother and his sisters. Bran had been so consumed by his own misery at not being able to walk and being so dependant on others due to his disability, that he had forsaken his younger brother and not kept the memory of their family alive for him. He could see the pain in his mother’s face when Rickon would run to Osha instead of her, or when his mother would talk about Robb or his father and Rickon would show no recognition, or when his sisters tried to approach him and he would just turn away. _I should have told him more of our parents and our siblings_ , Bran thought to himself.

 

Being a cripple was something that he had reluctantly come to terms with. He was afraid, however, others would not be so acceptant. He feared people would question his ability as King just because he couldn’t use his legs. Yet his fears were quickly quenched. He had the contraption engineered by Tyrion Lannister to help him ride. He had Hodor to carry him around, but he also had a special chair to which wheels had been attached so he could move within the castle. The new Maester, Maester Nokes, had devised a way for him to get up and down the stairs using a small wooden platform attached to the railing which he could pull with a set of ropes. His legs had remained tiny and useless, but his arms had grown stronger as a result. He wished he could still walk, run and climb like he used to, but it was being unable to do the little everyday actions that frustrated him the most. Fortunately his mother was very supportive and he also had his sisters. He missed running around the castle and playing hide and seek with Arya - and occasionally Sansa - but he knew he could count on them for whatever he needed.

 

Having a divided Kingdom implied relying on correspondence with his counterpart in the South. He had made a special bond with King Tommen Baratheon of the South when his father King Robert had visited Winterfell in what seemed like ages ago. He had bittersweet memories of that time. On the one hand he had thoroughly enjoyed meeting the Royal family: King Robert and his Queen Cersei; their children: Prince Joffrey who had been betrothed to Sansa, Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen; and the Queen’s brothers: living legend Jamie Lannister, reputed to be the best swordsman in the continent, and the mysterious Imp. But on the other hand, this visit marked the beginning of the downfall of his own family. He had fallen from a tower suffering a crippling accident. His father had gone south with the King taking his two sisters along, war had erupted between the two families resulting in the loss of his father and older brother Robb. For a while it seemed he had lost everybody but Rickon. But the Gods had favoured him and brought him and his family out of the darkness.

 

This ill-fated visit to Winterfell had, incidentally, also marked the downfall of Tommen’s family. His father, King Robert had died shortly afterwards. Rumours of incest and adultery had negatively affected his family’s reputation and had ultimately led to the war of the Five Kings. His brother Joffrey had been crowned only to be killed at his own wedding under mysterious circumstances. Cersei, who had been Queen Regent to Joffrey, was now also Queen Regent to Tommen. But her power was only superficial as most of the ruling was done by the King’s wife, Queen Margaery Tyrell, Joffrey’s widow whom Tommen had married after Joffrey’s death. King Tommen was also being advised by his grandfather Tywin Lannister, who had been named Hand of the King and to whom credit for the peaceful division of the Kingdom and the end of the bloody war had been awarded, and a Small Council made up of his uncle Tyrion Lannister, Margaery’s father Mace Tyrell, and Petyr Baelish. Out of all these people, it was only the latter whom the North did not trust. He was considered by many as the main culprit for starting the war. It was Petyr Baelish who had betrayed Bran’s father and, ultimately, led to his execution. He had also lied to his mother and propelled her to kidnap Tyrion Lannister in the hopes of finding justice for her son’s assassination attempt. It was also suggested, though never proven, that he had orchestrated Jon Arryn’s death and Joffrey’s murder.

 

After so many years of war, finally the South and the North were getting along. They were both ruled by young boys who were surrounded by sound advisors whose aim was, first and foremost, to maintain the peace between the newly-formed Kingdoms. Most importantly, both Kings had a profound respect for each other – some might even call it friendship.

 

King Tommen already had his Queen, but Bran did not, and that had driven many Lords and High born ladies in the North to a competition Bran was not particularly fond of. He had received, and rejected, countless proposals for marriage. _You are too young_ , his mother kept saying remembering all too well what had transpired the last time she had allowed for one of her children to be betrothed at a young age. And he was more than happy to oblige, he had no wish to marry any time soon. The same thing was happening to both his sisters. Sansa’s marriage to Tyrion Lannister had been annulled as it had never been consummated, thus freeing her from any impediments to marry again. Both Arya and Sansa were receiving constant proposals now that they were Princesses, all of which had been turned down by the girls themselves. His mother had not escaped this either, as she was also bombarded with marriage proposals by some of the older Northern Lords who would love to get their hands on the title King Regent. The only one who appeared not to be marriage material yet was the young Rickon. However, the Stark family was not ready to be separated again, so none of the marriage proposals were accepted.

 

Brandon Stark knew being King would not be an easy task, but he had the utmost confidence in himself and the people who surrounded him. He would become the King the North deserved.

**__ **

TBC


	2. A Stag Over a Bloodied Wolf

Stannis Baratheon was fuming at his castle in Dragonstone. He was the chosen one, _Azor Ahai_ , his Red Priestess had told him time and again. Yet, he never got what he deserved.

 

After Robert’s Rebellion he should have been given Storm’s End, but alas, he was not. His brother had seen it fit to grant the Baratheon House to his younger brother Renly. After Robert’s death, he should have become King. If Robert’s children were indeed the product of incest between the Queen and her brother, he should have been the rightful heir. Yet, nobody had seen it this way, and the few ones who had, had perished. Even his own attempt at the Iron Throne had failed miserably when he tried to invade King’s Landing in the ill-fated Battle of Blackwater Bay where most of his army had gone down in flames.

 

His brother Renly had met his just deserves for trying to usurp his rightful place on the Throne. The other usurpers, the Young Wolf, the Bastard Joffrey Waters and the Kraken Balon Greyjoy had also succumbed to Lady Melisandre’s prophecy. How was it that he was not King yet? How was it that his Kingdom had been divided in two? How was it that a bastard boy sat on the Iron Throne in King’s Landing and the brother of the Young Wolf sat in his throne in the North? It should all be his by right, but he had nothing.

 

“A Lannister bastard born of incest has taken my rightful place in King’s Landing and the young brother of a usurper has taken part of my Kingdom. And what do I do? I sit here in Dragonstone waiting for your flames to give me a sign” Stannis raged at Lady Melisandre. “You swore I was Azor Ahai, but I do not see it. I’m not sitting on the Iron Throne. Your flames showed you our victory at Blackwater, but it was our ships and our men who went down in flames. What do you have to say now?”

“My Lord, Your Grace,” Melisandre replied standing by his side “the flames do not lie.”

“Well, they have not proved truthful either” he retorted.

“It may take some time, Your Grace” she continued sliding her palm slowly down Stannis’s cheek, “time and patience. Your time will come.” She placed her other hand on the other side of his face and kissed him on his lips. His mouth remained closed. “Maybe Blackwater Bay was not meant to be, but it happened for a reason.”

“What reason besides losing most of my army and my ships?” he spat back at her.

“It has brought us here to rethink our strategy, my Lord, to show us the true meaning of Patience. Victory cannot be achieved in one stroke. Maybe the flames will give us another sign.”

“Or maybe I should show your flames a sign” he replied, his tacit threat lingering in the air.

“My Lord, Your Grace, you should not rush into decisions” she said in a sultry voice and started undoing the laces on the front of her robe.

 

Davos, who had been a silent witness to this exchange decided to intervene.

“Your Grace,” he started after a soft cough “maybe you should consult with your wife. I’m sure Lady Selyse will have answers for you.” He knew Selyse would have no idea of strategies and war, but his words had the desired effect as Stannis stepped away from the Red Priestess and she started tying the laces again.

 

“Do you believe in the flames, Ser Davos?” she asked the Onion knight.

“Not really, my Lady. I do believe King Stannis to be the rightful heir to the throne and I will not rest until I see him crowned.”

“What do you think I should do, Ser Davos?” Stannis questioned him.

“We should maybe retreat for a few months to regain our strength and then come back.”

“Retreat where?”

“Maybe we should just stay here in Dragonstone until we can strengthen our forces once again” Davos replied cautiously.

“I need to think about this. I would prefer to be alone” Stannis said putting an end to the conversation. “My Lady, Ser Davos” he nodded and prompted them to leave his solar.

 

Stannis was at a loss. Could this really be the end of his plight? Stuck in this god-forsaken rock with his wife and daughter. He loved his wife, not in a sexual or romantic way, but in a more dutiful way. Selyse was his wife and he would do well by her, and he truly cherished their daughter Shireen and doted on her. They deserved to be Queen and Princess of Westeros, it was their right as much as it was his. When he visited his wife’s chambers and told her of the standstill they were at, she tried to console him the only way she knew. She started untying his pants and his breeches and pressed her body against his. With an impassive face, he let her untie her own dress and guide him to the bed. He could feel her hands on his chest and between his legs, but it was another hand he kept picturing, a hand engulfed in flames lit by the red light of a ruby. He took no pleasure in the marriage bed with Selyse. For all the companionship and mutual goals they shared, passion was not something they considered important. And it was not Selyse’s plain unremarkable face he saw when he climaxed but a pale white face with piercing eyes, full red lips and bright fiery hair.

 

It was past midnight when Melisandre visited Stannis in his solar.

“I’ve had another vision, my Lord”

“Pray tell” he said.

“I saw you in a field of white. Cold vast white.”

“Snow perhaps?” he pondered. “The North?”

“A battle” she continued placing her hands on his shoulders. “I saw you, my Lord.”

“Did I win?”

“I saw a wolf and a stag. A stag standing over a wolf. Blood on the snow under the wolf. Fire behind the stag”

“I kill the Starks!”

“The flames do not lie, my Lord” she whispered to his ear pressing her cheek to his.

“My decision is made” he proclaimed stepping away from the Priestess. “We’re marching to Winterfell!”

“We need an ally in the North” she continued. “We need a way in and reinforcements.”

“Any one in mind?” he prodded.

“The Boltons, my Lord. They despise the Starks and have gone behind their backs before. Roose Bolton betrayed and killed Robb Stark, and his bastard son Ramsay ransacked their home, Winterfell. Now they stand powerless as the Starks reclaim their place in the North. I am sure they will be willing to lend you a hand, for a price.”

“I could name Bolton Warden of the North when this is all done.”

“A small price”

“Good idea. Let me call Davos so we can pen a letter to Lord Bolton.”

“No need to wake up Ser Davos, my Lord. I can help you.”

 

She proceeded to grab ink and a parchment, placed everything on the table and Stannis started to write.

“To Lord Roose Bolton, future rightful Warden of the North …”

 

 

TBC


	3. The Bolton Issue

A meeting was being held at the Main Hall in Winterfell. King Bran Stark sat on his throne; to his right sat his Hand, his great uncle Brynden Tully; to his left his mother, Queen Regent; and across from him sat his Small Council: Harrion Karstark, heir to the Karhold House; Alysane Mormont, daughter to Maege Mormont; Marlon Manderly, cousin to Lord Wyman Manderly; and Howland Reed, who had stayed behind at Winterfell after his two children had disappeared without a trace.

 

“The Boltons at the Dreadfort” started Bran, eying the crown on his lap with suspicion. “What should we do about them?”

“Kill them, kill them all” said Alysane Mormont. “Roose Bolton killed our King and most of our men, including my sister Dacey! They deserve nothing less.”

“Is this your brain speaking or your guts, Lady Mormont?” asked Harrion Karstark.

“The Boltons did not kill your family, Karstark” she replied.

“No, Robb Stark did. Yet, here I am, a staunch supporter of the Stark cause and loyal advisor to our new King.”

“Please, let us focus on the matter at hand” Brynden Tully intervened.

“The Boltons need to be dealt with. But we cannot just raid the Dreadfort and burn it to the ground. That would only bring discord to our newly created Kingdom. A more peaceful solution needs to be found” Lord Manderly started.

“I could order Roose Bolton to surrender to me and name a new Lord of the Dreadfort” said Bran toying with the crown in his hands.

“As much as I dislike bloodshed, I think a violent solution is warranted in this case. The Boltons are not to be trusted. They have shown their disloyalty before” Lady Mormont tried again

“Yes, my Lady, they have indeed been disloyal, but I concur with Lord Manderly” added Howland Reed. “A full scale attack on the Dreadfort would only result in grievous losses.”

“I, for one, cannot stand the fact that Lord Roose Bolton and his son Ramsey are still alive and breathing when many of our good men are not precisely because of _them_ ” replied Brynden Tully.

“My Hand and one member of my Council thinks we should attack them, while the rest of my Council believes a more peaceful method would be preferable” pondered Bran, still unable to place the crown on his head. “What do you think, Mother?”

“Ramsay Snow took the House of my husband and killed many people I loved. With my own eyes I saw Roose Bolton kill my son. He betrayed us and aided the Freys in this bloody massacre. He left me at the Twins” she started and her body gave a slight involuntary shudder. “I want them dead” she said venomously. “But as Lord Karstark said, it is not my brain speaking but my heart.”

“So, my Hand, my mother and Lady Mormont, do you think we should attack them?” Bran asked them and they all nodded. “Lords Karstark, Manderly and Reed, are you opposed to a full out attack of the Dreadfort?” he addressed the other three members of his Council.

“Yes, Your Grace” replied Karstark. “I believe we should try to negotiate with Lord Roose Bolton and replace him with someone of your choosing.”

“So, it’s a split decision” Bran said looking at his crown.

“What say you, Your Grace?” his great uncle prodded him.

“I say we thrash them” he finally said and placed the crown over his head. “I want an army ready to leave in five days.” A final decision had been reached and the meeting was over.

 

Preparations were underway for the attack on the Dreadfort: the horses were being prepared, carts were being built, swords were being forged, shields were being made, clothes were being sewn. Brynden Tully did not want to leave any detail unattended if they were to successfully remove the scourge that were the Boltons from their land.

 

 

Bronn the Sellsword, having been knighted and having become Lady Catelyn’s personal guard, thought it was his duty as well, to oversee the military preparation. He helped the soldiers train and provided useful advice to the blacksmiths forging the swords and battle axes. This was what he was best at: fighting. He couldn’t wait to be out in the field, giving his sword its much needed nourishment.

 

He had also made it his duty to care for Lady Catelyn. After her ordeal at the Twins, she was gradually gaining weight and was starting to look and feel healthier. Unbeknownst to her, he always made sure she ate her meals and went to bed on time. Night had fallen and he knew she had already had supper with her children but he couldn’t find her anywhere. Not that he was worried, since no danger could befall her at her own home, but he always felt the need to check. Looking for her, it was Sansa he came across.

 

“Good evening Lady Sansa”

“Oh, good evening Ser Bronn” she blushed. After her horrifying experience in King’s Landing it was a wonder she felt at ease around Bronn, him being a knight and a stranger. Catelyn had talked at length to Bronn about her children and how Sansa had always loved princes and knights and songs. It was a good sign her ordeal had not changed her much. She still believed in the kindness and chivalry of knights.

“How was your day?”

“Oh, fine. Thank you. I have been helping the seamstress with the clothes for the soldiers. It’s not the kind of sewing and embroidery I was used to, but it’s what is needed now.”

“Good for you. I’m sure all the clothes will come in handy. Hopefully I’ll be lucky enough to get one of the shirts you made” he smiled at her.

“You’re too kind, Ser. My mother is always talking about you and how kind you are to her.”

“Speaking of your mother, have you seen her?”

“I think she went with Rickon. He was being fussy and I think she went to tuck him in.”

“Thank you. Good night, Lady Sansa” he bowed and went in the direction of the boy’s room.

 

He knew Catelyn was having difficulties with her youngest son. The boy had spent too long without his mother and didn’t seem to need her, which was tearing her apart. He would always turn to Osha instead and, even though Catelyn denied it, he knew she resented the wildling woman. He feared the boy’s reaction if it was Catelyn tucking him in and not Osha. Would he reject her again?

 

So it was a pleasant surprise when he found Catelyn in her son’s room sound asleep in his bed, her arms draped around his body and Rickon snuggled comfortably in her embrace. She looked to be deep in sleep, her lips parted and her breathing even. He didn’t want to wake her, but he knew she should sleep in her bed. She would be very sore the following day otherwise.

 

“My Lady” he shook her slightly.

Her eyes fluttered slowly and her drowsy voice mumbled something he could not hear.

“Lady Catelyn” he tried again.

This time she opened her eyes and immediately jumped to her feet. “Bronn” she cried surprised and started smoothing down her wrinkled clothes.

 

As he was escorting her to her chambers, they talked about the day’s events. She told him about the Council meeting and how it was they had come to the decision to attack the Dreadfort, and he apprised her of the progress made for said attack. Then she turned to more personal matters.

“He asked for _me_ , Bronn” she said giddily. “My son, Rickon, asked _me_ to take him to bed, just like he used to. He asked me to tell him a story and sing to him.”

“That’s good, my Lady”

“It’s more than good!” she cried excitedly and took his hand. “Bronn, don’t you see? My son remembers me and loves me! I thought I had lost him. I do not begrudge Osha her time with him - Oh, who am I kidding?” she laughed mirthlessly. “I hate to admit it, but I do: it is _my_ place to take my son to bed and sing him lullabies. But she has been a great help. The Gods know my sons would never have survived without her, and for that I will be forever grateful. But Rickon asked _me_ to take him to bed!”

“I’m happy for you Catelyn” he replied, and he truly was.

 

They were still walking hand in hand when they arrived at her chambers. He felt her hesitate for a second, almost as if she were about to ask him something. But it was just a fleeting moment. Her eyes darkened and her expression stiffened. She immediately turned around, thanked him and bid him goodnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you can, please drop me a line and let me know what you think so far ...
> 
> Everything is fine for now ... but the tide will soon change ... And we will see Bran develop as the new King ...


	4. A Matter of Priorities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything is ready for the attack on the Dreadfort ... but things take an unexpected turn ...

A raven had arrived so King Bran summoned his Council once again.

 

“News has arrived from the North” he told them and waited until they were all sitting at the table. “Here’s a parchment I have received from Lord Commander Mormont at Castle Black” he continued and gave the letter to Brynden Tully who started reading aloud.

 

_“To: King Bran Stark, King in the North._

_From: Lord Commander Mormont._

_I am writing to request your assistance. We have learned of a greater threat lurking beyond the Wall. A large host of wildlings, led by former member of the Night Watch, now King-beyond-the-Wall, Mance Ryder, is gathering and preparing an invasion. We request all the Lords of the Kingdoms (both North and South) to lend assistance to the Night Watch so we can guard the Realms of Men against these savages._

_With your permission, I will be sending my envoy, Jon Snow, to gather reinforcements and supplies._

_Awaiting your prompt reply,_

_Lord Commander of the Night Watch, Jeor Mormont.”_

 

“Well, this certainly changes things” said Brynden Tully.

“Indeed it does” added Alysane Mormont.

“This takes priority over our attack on the Dreadfort and the Boltons” Bran said in a grave voice. “Uncle, have the men get ready, but to go to the Wall instead” he continued, the crown resting proudly over his head. “We need to prepare supplies, weapons, food and clothes to send, as well.”

“Aye, Your Grace”

“I’ll send a reply today. I want everything ready when my brother arrives.”

“He’s not your brother” a barely audible voice whispered.

“Mother? Did you say anything? I didn’t hear you” Bran asked Catelyn.

“No, Bran. Nothing. Everything will be ready” she replied with a timid smile.

 

After the meeting was over, Catelyn quickly stepped out of the Hall and started heading in the direction of her room. She came across Bronn, who stopped her gently.

“My Lady, guarding you is not an easy task when you sprint so fast out of the Hall”

“Ser Bronn, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude” she replied.

“Are you going to your chambers? Let me escort you” he said and started walking next to her. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence he finally said “It is not like you to be so quiet. If I may, what transpired at the meeting? Are we still going to smash the Boltons. My sword is thirsty for blood.”

“Its thirst will be quenched, but not with my son’s murderer’s blood” she replied bitterly.

“My Lady, you seem troubled. Is your son alright?”

“Yes, Bronn, he is. He’s a fine boy. He was so scared at the beginning, but you should see him now. He wears that crown like an extension of his own head. Ned would be so proud”

“I have only seen you so upset when your children are at stake. What troubles you then?”

“Word has come from the Wall. They need assistance to defeat a horde of wildlings bent on invading our lands.”

“Then, is that where we are heading? We’ll take care of these savages and then we’ll take care of the Boltons.”

“Yes. But I need for the Boltons to pay” she replied, her rage barely under control.

“I know you do. I know, my Lady. But it’s a matter of priorities. What good is it for us to defeat the Boltons if then we’re all going to be overrun by wildlings from beyond the Wall?”

 

She turned to look at him but said nothing. They had arrived to her chambers and as she opened the door she turned to him one more time.

“Bronn, would you mind coming into my room?”

“My Lady,” he breathed and raised his eyebrows “some people might not consider that proper.”

“You’re right. I am sorry I asked” she replied abashedly.

“But I was never a proper man” he smiled and held the door for her.

 

They walked into her room and she motioned for Bronn to sit by her in one of the chairs at the table.

“I have told you of Jon Snow, my husband’s bastard, haven’t I?” she started fidgeting uncomfortably and scratching an imaginary itch in her scalp.

“Yes, you have. Your husband brought him right after Robert’s Rebellion and he lived here with you for most of his life. He joined the Night Watch.”

“He is the one coming to gather the men and the supplies for the Wall.”

“And this bothers you …” he prompted.

“Yes!” she yelled outraged. “Why should his needs take precedence over mine?”

“It is not about your needs or his needs. It is about protecting the realm, the Kingdom and your family” he replied softly. “And I know deep down, you know this too.”

“Yes, I know” she replied embarrassed. “But why did it have to be _him_?”

“So, that’s what bothers you. That Jon Snow is coming, not the fact that we are sending men to the Wall and that we are not going to the Dreadfort.”

“It’s always him. Ned had another woman and I never knew her name. I never knew if he loved her or not. He obviously did. I had to share my children’s place with him. I argued with Ned because of him. I argued with Robb because of him. And now I don’t want to argue with Bran because of him. All my life I have heard the whispers, the snickers. _The Lady must not be much if the Lord had to seek another woman. Look at Lord Snow, he looks so much like his father, not like his other son Robb._ All my life, Bronn, people making fun of me because of him. People thinking me evil because I refused to love him as my own. I have even had my own children take his side” she said on the verge of tears.

“You’re not jealous of this boy, are you?” he teased her.

“No!” she reacted and then just stared into his eyes. “Am I?”

“No, not jealous,” Bronn said putting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “just afraid. And you shouldn’t be. He’s no threat to you or your children. From what I gather, he never was. It was not his fault to be born out of wedlock. It was not his fault your husband was untruthful. And I know you know this.”

“I do” she said quietly. “Gods, Bronn, why do I feel this way?”

“Just put the past behind you and face the future. Embrace the future, put the nightmares behind you. You’re safe and back home. Your son is King and your daughters are Princesses. The Night Watch needs our assistance and we’ll provide it.”

“You’re right. I won’t sway my son’s decision. This is what needs to be done, and I know it. I just need to accept it” she smiled ruefully.

 

 

So it was that six days later, Catelyn stood by the window in her room watching as her children welcomed Jon Snow back to Winterfell. King Bran Stark wheeled his chair to Jon and he dismounted and raised Bran in his arms. He did the same thing with Rickon, whom he tossed in the air playfully. He then kissed Sansa’s hand and bowed in front of Arya. It looked like such a lovely scene from Catelyn’s window. Jon then approached Bran and asked him something. Bran pointed at his mother’s window and Jon stared in her direction. Their eyes met in the distance and Catelyn just removed herself from the window.

“I can’t do this Bronn. I just can’t” she told her trusted personal guard.

“Yes you can. I know you can. You are stronger than this. Remember, it is not the boy’s fault.”

“I know” she said resolutely. She took a deep breath and headed for the Main Hall. She would deal with this. The Wall needed their help and Winterfell would heed their call, just like they had done for thousands of years. The safety of the Realm took precedence over her desire for revenge and her petty dislike for this poor boy for something which, she knew, was beyond his control.

 

 

TBC


	5. Flames on the Snow

“Welcome to the Dreadfort, Your Grace” Lord Roose Bolton greeted Stannis at the gates of his castle. “The only true King of the Seven Kingdoms, not this abomination born of incest in King’s Landing or this crippled good-for-nothing usurper at Winterfell”

“Thank you Lord Bolton. Your aid is greatly appreciated” Stannis replied.

“My wife, Walda Frey,” he introduced her and she curtseyed clumsily “and my son Ramsay Snow, soon to be Ramsay Bolton if Your Grace so permits”.

“Can we speak in private?” Stannis asked obviating all sorts of fake pleasantries and going straight to the point.

“Of course, Your Grace. This way, please” Roose said and led Stannis and his Red Lady to his solar while Selyse and Shireen were led to the guests’ chambers so they could rest.

 

“Lord Bolton, I am counting on your aid so we can attack Winterfell and re take the North.”

“If I may ask, Your Grace, why start with Winterfell and not King’s Landing? Dragonstone is closer to King’s Landing than Winterfell.”

“It is, but King’s Landing is too well guarded. The North has just come out of a bloody war and not unscathed. They have no proper army, so to speak, only scattered Lords who have lost many of their men. They have no strong and powerful Lord to guide them, only a crippled young boy as King. Tommen, on the other hand, is surrounded by a mightier army and advised by Tywin Lannister himself. If we get the North, we will have sufficient forces to attack King’s Landing.”

“You have my men and their loyalty, Your Grace. We owe nothing to Bran Stark.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I have more good news, Your Grace. As you are well aware, the Night Watch at the Wall has asked for aid to repel a wildling invasion. Winterfell has no choice but to send help. If my calculations are correct, they are most likely on their way to the Wall and Winterfell will be left defenceless with just a crippled boy, his hag of a mother, his useless sisters and a just a couple of wolves for protection. The time to attack is now, Your Grace.”

“We leave tomorrow at first light” Stannis ordered.

“My men are ready and at your command, Your Grace” replied Roose Bolton.

 

After the meeting with Stannis, Roose went to talk to his son.

“Am I going to be legitimized?” Ramsay asked.

“You had no qualms using my name before” Roose reproached his son. “I haven’t broached that subject with Stannis yet, but you will after he wins.”

“What if he doesn’t win?”

“Then we’ll side with whoever wins.”

“Do you truly support Stannis?”

“Of course not. He is a presumptions coward being led by a woman who knows nothing about war. But right now he’s our best chance of beating the Starks and reclaiming what is ours. He truly believes himself to be Azor Ahai. If he were really the Chosen One he wouldn’t be here begging for our help”

 

Under the command of Stannis Baratheon, the Bolton and Baratheon men left the Dreadfort early the following morning, After spending two weeks in ships and a long trek from the coast to the Dreadfort, this hike through the dense Northern forest was taking a toll on Stannis’s army. The men were getting weary. On the other hand, Roose Bolton and his men, more accustomed to the Northern weather and the rugged terrain, were eager to show their Southron counterparts what being a Northerner was all about; they sniggered and mocked them every chance they could. Stannis, for his part, was excited at the prospect of finally getting close to his coveted prize, oblivious to the plight of his men and the jeers they were subjected to.

 

He had left his wife and daughter at the Dreadfort with Roose’s own wife, Fat Walda Frey. Lady Melisandre, however, had decided to accompany them and was now riding right behind Stannis. She tried to engage Davos in conversation, but the Onion Knight wanted nothing to do with her. He did not trust her and he did not like what she was doing to his Lord.

 

It was mid afternoon when the walls of Winterfell appeared on the horizon. The army stopped to set up camp and Stannis met with Davos, Roose Bolton and Ramsay Snow.

“Our best chance is to attack from the West. They are not expecting us and will never see us coming from behind the Wolfwood.”

“Should we draw them out or should we fight our way in through the gates?”

“If my calculations are correct, most of the men are on their way to Castle Black and we shouldn’t find much opposition” said Roose Bolton.

“If your calculations are correct…” repeated Davos. “And if they are not?”

“Then we fight!” replied Ramsay with a smug grin.

“We are best catching them unawares. We should take advantage of the dark and attack at night” Roose Bolton continued.

“At night we will be fighting blind. We attack at sunrise” Stannis said putting an end to the discussion.

 

“My Lord,” Lady Melisandre called Stannis “you will be victorious. I have seen it in my flames.”

“So you have said. You also said I would win at Blackwater Bay”

“Have faith My Lord. My visions do not lie.”

“If you interpret them correctly.”

“A Stag standing over a Wolf on a white field covered with blood. The visions are clear. You will vanquish the Wolves of Winterfell.”

“The only Wolves at Winterfell right now are two young boys, one of them crippled, two girls and a woman. Which of these wolves do I kill in your vision?” he replied exasperated.

“I sense some disbelief in you, My Lord. Come. Let me show you my flames” she invited him into her tent. As they stepped in, Melisandre used a candle to light a small pyre in the middle of her tent. “Look, my Lord. Look intently at the dancing flames. Do you see it?” she asked untying her cloak. “Look, focus” she continued as she removed her gown. “Look at the flames. Look at the source. _Lord of Light. Guide us. Lead us. Guide us. Lead us. Guide us. Lead us.”_ She started chanting and dancing in circles. The red ruby at her throat started emitting a bright light and her whole body started glowing. _“Guide us. Lead us. Guide us. Lead us.”_

 

Slowly her chant and dance came to an end and the glow subsided. She put out the fire in the pyre and stood next to Stannis.

 

“Feel the heat, my Lord” she said and took Stannis’s hand and placed it on her bare chest. “Feel the Power of the Lord of Light”.

 

Stannis’s eyes became unfocused and he was unaware that Melisandre was already taking off his cloak and his jacket. He kept his hand on her chest and she stretched her arms to untie his pants. She then bent down and removed his breeches.

 

“Let me show you the power of R’hllor” she whispered in a sultry voice and pushed him down on the floor of her tent.

 

 

By the time Stannis left Melisandre’s tent most of the soldiers were already asleep.

“Your Grace, there is a foul moon tonight” Davos warned Stannis.

“We will prevail” he replied.

“Your Red Lady told you that?”

“She is a very trusted advisor, and yes, she has shown me we will prevail. You will do well to trust her, Ser Davos.”

“With all due respect, Your Grace, I don’t think she’ll _show_ me her flames the way she has shown you.”

“Get ready, Ser Davos, we will attack shortly” he said sternly

“Yes, Your Grace.” Davos spared a last glance towards Melisandre and saw her smirking triumphantly at him.

_TBC_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: The Battle of Winterfell


	6. The Battle of Winterfell

Inside the yard at Winterfell, the men were getting ready to depart. Led by Jon Snow, half of Winterfell’s guards were going to Castle Black. They were taking carts carrying supplies, weapons, food and clothes.

 

“Take care, Jon” Sansa told her brother and hugged him tightly.

“I will, Sansa. You take care too. And take care of Bran and Rickon.”

“Promise you’ll be back soon” Arya pleaded with him.

“I promise my beautiful wild Princess”

“I am not a princess” she complained.

“You are, and so am I. Bran is King” said Rickon.

“You are a Prince, my little wild wolf” replied Jon taking Rickon into his arms. “You are the Prince who will protect these two defenceless princesses against monsters and dragons.”

“Dragons do not exist” replied Rickon.

“Or do they?”

“Jon, stop it! You’re scaring him!” Sansa scolded him playfully.

“All right. I have to go now. But don’t forget who you are. You are the Starks of Winterfell” he told his siblings. “ _Winter is coming_ , but you will stand strong. As soon as this battle is done, we will all be back. Meanwhile, I want you to help Bran and listen to your mother.”

“She still doesn’t like you. I don’t understand. With father gone, why doesn’t she like you?” asked Arya.

“Don’t you worry about that. Your mother and I have our differences and we have talked about it. However she feels about me, she is a very good mother to all of you.”

“She says goodbye to Bronn but not to you.” Arya complained and pointed at her mother and Bronn talking to each other.

“She has grown close to Bronn, he is her personal guard. Well, I really must go now. I’ll be back. I promise!” he swore as he got on his horse. He rode past Lady Stark and they both nodded politely at each other.

“My Lady” he said courtly.

“Jon” she replied. “Be safe. Good luck”

“Thank you.”

 

The men were lining at the Gates when a voice rang out from a tower.

“We are under attack!”

 

Confusion gripped the soldiers in the yard. The gates were barred and archers ran to the towers. Getting close but still not within shooting distance a host of soldiers could be seen. The snow fallen in the last week had covered the field in white making it easier for the watchmen to spot the invading army.

“Flayed man banners” yelled a guard. “Boltons!”

“A Stag!”

“In a heart of fire! It’s Stannis Baratheon!”

 

“What could Stannis be doing with the Boltons?” Jon asked Catelyn who was still standing beside him.

“I don’t know!” she replied trying hard not to panic.

 

“Night Watch, to me!” Jon yelled and all the men of the Night Watch who had come with him got ready for battle.

“Winterfell, to me!” Brynden Tully copied and the Winterfell men rallied behind him. “These clowns could not have picked a better time to attack!”

“We cannot let them in!” yelled Alysane Mormont raising her sword.

“Open the gates! Let’s go!”

“Winterfell!”

“The King in the North!” the battle cry rang out in the yard as the soldiers rushed out into the field.

 

As soon as they stepped out of the gates they saw the incoming host. They were gaining speed towards Winterfell but came to a halt when they saw the Winterfell men come out. Stannis’s army spread out to wait for the Winterfell men to engage them in battle.

 

The clang of swords mixed with the yells of the soldiers and the shrieks of the horses soon merged in a tumultuous storm of indistinguishable sounds. Blood splattered all over the snow-covered ground. Men met in raw combat, fighting for their lives. Jon could see many of the people he knew from before the war, especially some of the men from northern houses like Umber, Mormonts and Karstarks; and people he had just met in Winterfell like Brynden Tully, Bronn the sellsword, and some of the newest members of the guard. They were all rallying to fight for their King and their House. He never felt prouder of being Ned Stark’s son.

 

He kept wielding his sword left and right fighting the men who came at him. He saw his companions doing the same thing. A voice suddenly caught his attention.

“But if it isn’t the Stark bastard!”

“And who might you be?” Jon replied.

“The bastard of Bolton, who unlike you, will soon be legitimized when my father rules the North again.”

“Not a chance” replied Jon and lunged at him.

 

Ramsay was young and agile and soon got the upper hand. Jon tried to exchange blow for blow, but he could rapidly see his rival was stronger than he was. A vicious hit with the sword sent him sprawling to the ground and his hand let go of the sword. He mentally prepared himself for the final blow when he suddenly saw Ramsay’s expression turn from deranged to confused. Then he saw a sword protruding from his chest and a line of blood trickling down his body.

“You’re welcome” smiled Brynden Tully offering Jon his hand and pulling him up.

“Thank you” he returned the smile.

“Enough chatting, we have more men to kill!” the Blackfish rallied him up.

 

Bronn relished the moment his sword made contact with the first enemy. He was born for this. This was his element. Cutting through flesh and bone he lost sight of Bronn the man and became Bronn the sellsword.

 

He suddenly came face to face with a man he recognized based on Catelyn’s descriptions.

“Lord Roose Bolton I presume” he said.

“Bronn the sellsword, is it?” replied Bolton.

“At your service. How would you like for me to kill you?” replied Bronn wielding his sword at Bolton.

“Is she paying you well enough? Lady Catelyn?” Bolton replied not just with words but also with his sword. “Are you sleeping with her? She’s a good catch, or so I’ve been told by my friends at the Twins” he taunted hoping to distract his rival.

“You son of a bitch!” replied Bronn. His mind flashed back at Tywin Lannister’s camp and an image of Catelyn’s broken body suddenly assaulted his memory. He couldn’t help the rage building inside him and lunged furiously at Bolton. Piercing through shield and chain mail he stabbed his enemy on his side. “You will die for what you did to her and her son” Bronn said and he pulled the sword up through Bolton’s shoulder almost severing his arm. He looked down at the dying man and brought his sword down on his neck. Not sparing one more second on Roose Bolton, he spat on his body he went on to find the next man to kill.

 

Jon stood next to Brynden Tully as they fought side to side. He had become fond of the old knight, and apparently the feeling of respect was mutual. He saw his companion fall to a hard blow on his back. He took a quick glace to his fallen comrade to make sure he was alright and then immediately engaged the man in combat. His rival seemed old and tired. He sported a stag in a flaming heart on his chest. _One of Stannis’s men_ , Jon realized. _And a very important one probably, based on his armour and his weapons_. He had a heavy longsword which he wielded with ease. They exchanged blows and Jon suddenly felt a searing pain on his side. Blood started seeping through his armour and he quickly moved out of the way before his enemy could land another hit. Yet, he was not fast enough and the man forcefully pushed him to the ground. He did not lose grasp of his sword this time. As the man lunged down to finish him Jon put up his sword and the man impaled himself on Jon’s blade.

 

The man stepped back and removed his helmet, confusion palpable on his face. “Are you a Stark?” he asked Jon.

“I’m Jon Snow, Ned Stark’s son” he replied proudly.

The dying man took a deep breath. “A Stag standing over a Wolf” he muttered to himself. “There is blood on the snow but it’s not his. It’s mine. The visions were true” he whispered. A fit of cough struck him and blood started trickling from his mouth.

“Who are you?” Jon asked.

“St – Stannis” he stuttered. “King Stannis Baratheon” he repeated placing his sword on the ground, leaning against it and using it to remain upright.

Jon got to his feet and helped Stannis to the ground.

“Rest now, You Grace” he said and closed his eyes solemnly. Stannis may be dead, but the battle was far from over.

 

TBC


	7. Healing the Wounds

“Round them up!” shouted Brynden Tully. “Let’s take all these traitors to our King, _their_ King”.

 

Casualties had been low on the Winterfell side. The Bolton-Baratheon army had been outnumbered three-to-one and their calculations had obviously been erroneous. A large number had perished in the battle, and the surviving men were bound and forced to march back to Winterfell.

 

As soon as they stepped through the Gates, all the women and children, and the men who had stayed inside cheered the victory of their soldiers. Bran himself, sitting on his horse welcomed them back in and faced his prisoners.

 

“You have committed an act of treason against your King” he started. “You shall be punished accordingly.”

“By who? You? An eleven-year-old boy who can’t even walk!” yelled an outraged prisoner

“Shut up!” said Brynden Tully knocking the man on his head.

“This is not fair!” pleaded another one. “It was not us, it was Stannis.”

“Stannis is dead” answered Bran spitefully.

“And what about his red Lady?” asked a soldier with a stag on his breastplate.

“What Red Lady?” asked Bran.

“She’s a witch. She had him under her spell. She forced us to come here.”

“Where is she?” Bran asked again.

“She rode away” said one.

“No, she burst into flames” said another one.

“I saw her fly away on the back of a giant raven” added a third.

“Enough!” yelled the Blackfish. “Obviously nobody knows where she is. She was not on the battlefield, she’s not among the prisoners and was not among the casualties. She was not at the camp, either. She must have escaped. Or she never existed to begin with.”

“Regardless” continued Bran. “You have all committed treason. The Bolton men two-fold. First you attacked _my_ House, Winterfell, and killed many people I loved. And now you conspired, together with the usurper Stannis Baratheon, against your rightful King. Take them to the dungeons. You shall be hanged and then we will go to the Dreadfort to bring the rest of your people to justice.”

 

The prisoners who could walk were taken down to the dungeons while the wounded prisoners were taken to an empty stable where they were shackled to pallets, waiting to be tended to by the medics. The wounded men from Winterfell were taken to the infirmary, where they were immediately taken care of by Maester Nokes, the doctor and many of the women who decided to lend a helping hand.

 

Sansa quickly volunteered to help with the stitching. Human flesh was not the same as fabric, but her expertise with the needle was much appreciated. She awkwardly approached the first man and started stitching a gash on his arm. The poor man yelled and shrieked in agony, almost causing Sansa to give up. However, by the time she was done, she had successfully stopped the flow of blood on the man’s arm and was causing the man hardly any pain at all. She blushed when the man complimented her on her stitching abilities and proudly walked on to the next soldier. Arya, realizing she had no skills with a needle, decided to help with the rags used to clean the infected wounds.

 

Catelyn felt very proud of her two daughters. _Gods, how they have grown_ , she thought. She was also helping in the infirmary when a man covered in blood and mud reached out to her.

“Mercy for a dying man” he pleaded feebly.

She turned around and gasped. “Gods, Bronn! What happened to you? Tell me where it hurts” she said and knelt down in front of her trusted personal guard.

He grinned playfully and then he burst into laughter. “Scared you, didn’t I?” he teased her. When she didn’t reply he continued. “The blood is not mine, well most of it is not. I just have a small wound on my leg.”

“Gods Bronn, don’t ever do that to me again! You scared me half to death!” she berated him. “Let me see the wound.”

 

She cut his pants and then started cleaning his wound. “It’s a long gash along your thigh, but I don’t think it’s too deep. Let me clean it so then it can be sewn. From what I have heard Sansa is doing a good job.” She continued working in silence, using clean rags to wash away the blood and mud off his leg. Her hand lingered on his thigh for a few seconds too long, the tips of her fingers radiating warmth on his cold leg. Neither of them spoke. When he made to grab her hand, her eyes blinked and her expression changed. She snapped out of her trance and her hands went quickly to the pile of rags and she started cleaning the mud out on his other leg.

“I killed him” he suddenly said. She remained silent, not taking her eyes off the pile of rags. “Bolton.”

She looked at him and Bronn could not read her expression. “Good” was all she said.

“He’s dead, Catelyn. He won’t torment you any more.”

“He will always torment me. He killed my son. He’s in my nightmares when I sleep. He’s in my head when I’m awake.”

“Don’t let him” he said putting his hand on her arm. “Don’t let him.”

She nodded. “I’ll try. I need to keep going now. There are more men who need attention.”

“You know, Jon Snow did very well. I heard he was the one that killed Stannis” he said before she left. She turned to him and opened her mouth, but then closed it again without uttering a word. “Go see him. I think he was hurt.”

 

Catelyn looked for Jon and found him, but much to her dismay he was not alone. Arya was already with him wiping blood off his face.

“Arya, let me do this” said Catelyn. “I’ll take care of him.”

“No, I won’t leave him. I know you hate him, you’ll just kill him!”

“Arya,” her mother said softly “you know I won’t. He needs attention, let me do it.”

“Listen to your mother, Arya” Jon said weakly. “You were great, but your talents are needed elsewhere. Go.”

Arya turned from her mother to her brother and back to her mother again. “All right. you’ll help him, won’t you?” she asked Catelyn.

“Of course I will sweetling” Catelyn smiled. When Arya was gone Catelyn turned to Jon and started peeling off his bloodied shirt. He had a deep gash on his side and plenty of smaller cuts and abrasions.

 

She slowly removed his clothes and cleaned his more superficial wounds. Painstakingly, she dipped clean rags in water and applied them to his burning skin. It was not long until the water was red with his blood. He was drifting in and out of consciousness and moaning softly. She motioned for Sansa to approach and asked her to stitch up the smaller cuts on Jon’s arms and legs. To her pride, but not to her surprise, Sansa dealt with the task as if she had been doing this for years. Having taken care of the more superficial wounds, it was the deep gash on his side that took Catelyn’s attention. She managed to stop the flow of blood, but pus had already started to emerge from the angry red sides of the cut and there was a rabid heat spreading throughout his side and torso. Infection had started to set in.

 

**********************************************

 

_Cold. Cold and loneliness. He was alone in the woods when he felt a loud growl behind him. Ghost. No, not Ghost. This direwolf was grey, not white. Grey Wind? No, bigger. The direwolf snarled and then spoke._ “You won’t win,” _it said baring its teeth, drool pooling on its mouth. Its eyes glowed red, red with anger. No! Jon wanted to reply, but no sound came out. He was terrified. His feet were rooted to the ground and he couldn’t move. He wanted to run away, but his legs would not budge. He tried to turn his eyes, but they were frozen set on the big direwolf. He could hear noises around him, the wind blowing in the trees, the branches crashing onto one another, the rustling of twigs. And then, another growl._ “Ghost!”, _Jon wanted to yell, but the only thing he managed was a faint gasp. Then, they appeared in his line of vision - not just Ghost, but his siblings’ direwolves as well: Summer, Shaggydog, Grey Wind, Lady and Nymeria. All the direwoves stood in front of him, baring their teeth menacingly and growling loudly at him. Suddenly they all lunged forward at the same time. He knew he wouldn’t be able to repel their attack, so he sent a silent prayer to his Gods, the old Northern Gods._ “Please take care of my family. Please protect them.” _He saw the direwolves getting close, he felt their fur brush against his skin and their raw animal breath invaded his nostrils. He readied himself for a mortal blow, but they jumped past him. He couldn’t turn, but he could hear the sound of flesh being torn. A loud shriek sounded in the forest and as he managed to turn he came face to face with a being he had never seen. This man was cold, white frozen cold. He had horns where his hair should be. And his eyes … cold dead eyes. Jon was terrified. The big direwolf spoke up again._ “You will not win,” _it snarled. And then the big direwolf leapt towards the man and shredded him to pieces as the other direwolves howled into the sky._

_When it was all done, Summer turned to him._ “You can do this Jon. Wake up _._ ” _With great effort, Jon willed his eyelids to open. A bright light suddenly blinded him. He couldn’t see! When the glow subsided, he realized he was in a cave. Their cave. And Ygrette was with him. She was taking care of him and nursing his wounds. But wait! Ygrette was dead! It couldn’t be her. Yes, it was her! Kissed by fire. That was her hair, fiery red hair. He felt safe. He closed his eyes and surrendered to her warm embrace and her ministrations._

 

**************************************************

 

“Mother!” Arya came running into the room. “It’s Bran!”

“What?” asked Catelyn. She had been taking care of an unconscious Jon for the past three days. She had barely left his side. After learning that Jon had suffered so much defending Winterfell she felt compelled to make sure he survived. Bronn’s words also came to her mind. _It’s not the boy’s fault, and I know deep down you know this too._ And she did. She had always felt rage and anger towards Jon, but she now realized it was not Jon she resented, but Ned’s actions. “What about Bran? Is he alright?”

“I don’t know” Arya continued panic rising in her voice. “We were talking and suddenly he froze and his eyes went white. It only lasted a few minutes mother, but he scared me. He says he doesn’t remember any of it.”

“Where is he?” asked Catelyn already getting to her feet. “Take me to him.”

 

Bran was sitting on his throne toying with a sword in his hands.

“Bran, sweetling, what are you doing with that sword?”

“I’m King. Kings should have swords and be able to wield them” he replied coldly.

“Bran,” his mother slowly approached him and sat on the floor in front of him. “Arya tells me that you fell asleep.”

“I didn’t fall asleep, Mother. I was awake, but not here.”

“Where were you?”

“I don’t know, but Jon was there.”

“Honey, I have been with Jon the whole time. You were not there.”

“But I was.”

 

Catelyn reached to touch his forehead, but she didn’t feel any temperature. He did not look sick. He just looked tired. “Let me take you to bed. You’ve had a tough time, what with the men of the Night Watch arriving and Stannis’s attack. You should rest.”

 

She picked him up and took him to his room. On the way she came across Osha and asked her to help her care for Bran.

“Do not fret, my lady” the wildling woman said. “This is not the first time the young lord goes away in his head. He is fine. He always comes back”

“Back from where? Where does he go to?” a baffled Catelyn asked.

“It is not for me to say, my lady. The young lord gets confused sometimes, but he knows what he does. It is the Northern Gods he talks to.” Catelyn was so stunned she had no idea how to reply. “Do not worry my lady, I’ll take care of the young lord. He’s safe.” She swiftly ushered Catelyn out of the room and knelt down next to Bran’s bed.

 

Catelyn returned to Jon’s room and continued applying wet cool rags to his forehead and chest. His temperature was dropping and his breathing was coming out more even and steady. The fever had broken, Catelyn hoped. He then started moaning softly and murmuring in his sleep.

“Eh …greee” he mumbled.

“Jon, are you awake?” she asked concerned.

“Ygrette” he moaned again.

That brought a smile to Catelyn’s face. _A woman’s name, I wonder who this Ygrette is_. “Jon, wake up. You’re home, you’re at Winterfell. You’re safe”

Slowly his eyelids fluttered and then his dark brown eyes settled on Catelyn.

“Our cave” he mumbled and Catelyn wiped his face again with a rag. Suddenly his eyes opened wide and fear took over him. “My Lady,” he said trying to get up “what are you doing here?”

“Easy Jon, don’t get up” she said soothingly. “You’ve been out for three days. Stay down, you’ll be fine. The worst is over now. Do you know where you are?”

He looked around the room and then everything came crashing back to him. “Winterfell.”

“Yes, you’re home” she smiled.

“Why are you here?”

“Why, this is where I live” she replied.

“No, here with me?”

“Because you were hurt and you needed to be taken care of. I haven’t left your side”

“But why you?”

“You’d rather it were someone else? This Ygrette, for example?” she asked raising her eyebrows.

“Ygrette … was she here?” he asked confused.

“No, but you were whispering her name. Some impression she must have left on you, this Ygrette.”

“I’m sorry my lady, for taking up your time. I’m sure there are other people you’d rather be with.”

“Oh Jon, there are many people I’d rather be with: your father, Robb, my father. But right now, it was you who needed me.” She continued staring at him and was saddened by how much he resembled Ned. “I owe you a debt of gratitude. Without you we would have fallen to the Boltons again. I feel I owe you an apology. For years I misplaced my anger and directed it at you. I know now, you never meant any harm. I am glad to see you’re alright. Maester Nokes said once the fever breaks you should be fine. There is no lasting damage from your wound.”

“Three days, you said?” he asked pensively, and she nodded. “And you’ve been here the whole time?” she nodded again. “I thought .. I thought you were … someone else. Never mind.”

“Ygrette? You’ll tell me about her one day.”

“One day” he smiled timidly.

“I was told you killed Stannis and had a part in Ramsay’s death. You were very brave out in the field.”

“Did we win?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “And in no small part thanks to you.”

 

 TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we'll learn more about Bran's powers and visions ...
> 
> Thanks for sticking around. ... And if you want to leave a comment, please feel free ...


	8. The Gift

“I’m worried about Bran” Catelyn told Bronn as he was escorting her back from her Sept. “I keep praying for him. He has these moments where he just goes blank and stays frozen. I have only seen him do it once. But Arya claims he’s done it many times. He has no recollection of these lapses when he comes round. He said he’d been with Jon, when I know for a fact he hadn’t. I had stayed with Jon the whole time he was sick and Bran was never there.”

“Jon. Did you two talk?”

“Yes, we did. I told him how I felt. I hope he understands. I don’t hate him any more. Actually, you made me see I didn’t hate him. Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. Glad I could be of service, my Lady” he smiled. “As for Bran, it’s probably just the pressure. He’s a young lad and he has the responsibilities of a King” he said trying to ease her worries.

“Osha said he did it all the time. She says it’s something related to the Old Gods and that he talks to the Gods. I know not what to make of it.”

“Probably just some old tale from the wildling folks’ imagination.”

“I don’t know Bronn. I know I spent a long time away from him, but he’s changed. I wasn’t with him when he woke up after his fall. He must have missed me. I was afraid he would probably resent the fact that I was gone. But then we were all reunited and he was the little boy I remembered. Or so I thought. Ever since he was crowned King he has taken a plunge deeper and deeper into a dark abyss. At the beginning I was not very concerned, thinking he was grasping the duties and tasks being a King entailed, but now I see it’s more than that. You should have seen him speaking of the Boltons before we decided to attack them. He said _I want them thrashed_. Thrash, Bronn, isn’t that a tad cruel for a young boy? At the beginning he was afraid of wearing the crown. Then he started wearing it more often, and now he barely takes it off.”

“That’s good. He needs to show the people he’s the King.”

“Mh .. I don’t know. Every time he sits on the throne he changes. His face is set and his eyes are hard. I’m afraid for him.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“That he’s changing, and not for the better. He’s very quiet and serious. He is strict when he needs to, but gone is the kindness he used to have. Did you see him as we were hanging the Bolton men? He relished their agony. He was impervious to their cries for mercy. I felt sick just watching him. I cannot forget the expression on my son’s face as the prisoners were being led to the gallows and hanged.”

“It’s probably just a phase. But I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

“Thank you Bronn” she sighed. “I need to go to the town to see about the supplies for the Wall. Jon should be up tomorrow or day after tomorrow and then they’ll leave.”

“Would you like for me to accompany you, my Lady?”

“You don’t have to, if you have other things to do.”

“Nah, it would be my pleasure. Besides it would be nice to take a trip. Are we riding?”

“No, we’re taking the cart. There are some things I need to take to the seamstress and I’ll probably bring some stuff back.”

 

*********************************************

 

“Your Grace” Jon greeted Bran when he visited in his room. He was still bed-ridden but was feeling much better. “Maester Nokes said I would be able to get up tomorrow. If the Gods will it, we should be riding back to Castle Black tomorrow.”

“No” Bran said with such authority that it took Jon by surprise. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Jon. But I need you. I want you to go to the Dreadfort to bring the Boltons to Justice.”

“But you have more than enough men. You have your generals and soldiers, not to mention your great uncle, the Blackfish.”

“But I want you to go as well” he said in a tone that left no room for negotiation.

“Alright. I will stay, but let my men return to the Wall with the supplies.”

 

Bran nodded in agreement and before he left he turned to Jon once again.

“Jon, when you were dying, and my mother was taking care of you. Was I with you?” gone was the strength and fierceness from his voice and he sounded like the little boy Jon once knew.

“What do you mean?” Jon asked confused.

“I dreamt that I was with you in the forest. But it felt more than a dream. I felt I was actually there.”

“I don’t know” Jon said cautiously. “It was probably just a dream.”

“No. I was with you and together we vanquished the Ice Lord. I begged you to wake up, and not long after I had the dream you woke up.”

“I had the same dream Bran” Jon finally admitted.

“With the other wolves as well? And the big one?” he asked and Jon nodded. “Do you think it means anything?”

“I don’t know.”

“Osha says the Old Gods look after us through our wolves and that we can talk to them.”

“Talk you whom? The Gods or the Wolves?”

“Not sure” he replied shrugging his shoulders. “But I keep having these visions. I saw father in the Godswood long after he was gone. I saw Mother on a ship and I was never with her on a ship. I saw Arya running in the forest, and Sansa, and Robb. And you too, Jon. And many people I have never met. I see them in my head and they talk to me.”

“You should ask Osha. She will have more answers than I ever will.”

“She says she doesn’t want to tell me, that I will understand when the time is right. I wish I had someone to explain these visions to me. I tried telling Mother, but all I have done is worry her even more.”

“Maybe Osha is right, then. These visions will make sense when you need them to.”

“Maybe” was all he said before he left Jon’s room.

 

After visiting Jon, Bran went straight to his solar. He needed to talk to his Council.

“My mother has gone into town, but there are matters we still need to discuss” he told them. “The Night Brothers will return to Castle Black tomorrow with the supplies and a small contingent of men. Harrion Karstark you will go with them.”

“I will Your Grace” Karstark replied dutifully.

“My brother Jon is not going back yet. I mean for him to go to the Dreadfort. Uncle Brynden, you will lead the forces going to the Bolton House. You will bring the sergeants back as prisoners, together with Lord Boltons’ widow, Walda Frey, and Stannis Baratheon’s widow, Selyse, and her daughter Shireen. If you find this elusive Red Priestess, bring her as well. When you come back, I want you to leave Jacken Umber in charge. The Umbers have been staunch supporters of our cause and their House has suffered great losses because of the Boltons. The SmallJon himself was killed at the Red Wedding. Jacken Umber will become the new Lord of the Dreadfort.”

“We will, Your Grace” replied the Blackfish.

“You will also depart tomorrow. Once the issue with the Boltons is settled, you will all depart to Castle Black and join the rest of our men to aid in the fight against the wildlings beyond the Wall” he said putting an end to the meeting.

 

*************************************************

 

“So, we’ve got the shirts, the ropes, the flour, the salt, the spices” Bronn was listing as he was loading everything onto the cart. “Do we need anything else?”

“No, we’ve got everything” replied Catelyn.

“Let’s go home, then”

“Actually … there’s an old lady who lives a couple of hours east. I have never trusted her much. Some people say she’s a seer. I was hoping to ask her about Bran. I’m not sure what she might say, or even if I’ll believe it, but still …” she trailed.

“Let’s go then” said Bronn. They climbed in the cart and instructed the driver to go to the old woman’s house.

 

The house was not far from the town, but the road was treacherous, winding and through the dark forest. The house itself did not look much more welcoming either. It was an old run-down log house with just one window and one door. There was no sound, no light and no smoke, which was odd considering it was almost dusk and winter was indeed approaching.

 

“Are you sure she’s here?” asked Bronn.

But before Catelyn could answer, the door to the house creaked open. They looked at each other and decided to go in.

 

“Lady Catelyn Stark” an old weak voice said from a dark corner. “And I don’t know you. You’re not from the North”.

“Can you step where we can see you?” urged Bronn placing his hand in the pommel of his sword.

“No need for swords. I’m just an old woman, and we need no weapons for the questions Lady Catelyn has.”

“How do you know about my questions?” asked a wary Catelyn.

“It’s written on your soul.”

“What, don’t tell me you can see her soul from that dark corner” retorted a disbelieving Bronn.

 

An old chair creaked and the woman appeared from the darkness, the only light being that of the last rays of sun seeping through the open door.

 

“Please, take a seat” she said pointing to a log lying in the middle of the room. “You want to know about your son.”

“How do you know? Who have you been speaking to?” yelled Bronn.

“Bronn, calm down” said Catelyn grabbing his arm. “Let’s sit.” Catelyn waited for Bronn to sit down next to her and continued talking to the old lady. “Yes, it’s about my son Bran. He’s been having these … spells. He freezes and then has no recollection. He’s also changing. He’s becoming more … mhh, bloodthirsty” Catelyn was having trouble finding the right words.

“What about the visions?” the old lady asked.

“He hasn’t told me much about them, just that he can hear voices sometimes. Or he sees people that are no longer home, or he sees us in different contexts. He said he saw me on a ship with Ser Cassell, but the only time I was on a ship with Roddrick Cassell, Bran was lying unconscious on his bed. He also claimed to have been with Jon Snow while Jon was recuperating at the infirmary, and I know for a fact that was not the case.”

“Has he said anything about his wolf?”

“No, not his wolf. I mean, he loves his wolf and spends a lot of time with it, but he hasn’t mentioned it to me.”

“Your son is a warg, Lady Stark, and a greenseer.”

“No” she replied matter-of-factly. “He’s not a warg or some kind of creature from the beyond. My son is a normal boy.”

“When he freezes, as you said, he just goes into his wolf. He lives through his wolf. He can walk and run when he’s inside the wolf” the woman explained.

“No, that is not possible.”

“His visions are the Old Gods talking to him. The Old Gods are vicious, they revel in the taste of blood.”

“My son is not vicious.”

“No, but he listens to the Old Gods. Your son will make a great King for the North. The Gods are happy with him and have great plans for him. That’s why they have given him The Gift.”

“No, I can’t believe that. That’s not possible. That’s not … Oh Gods!” Catelyn started to shake.

“That will be all” Bronn decided to intervene. “Thank you for your time” he said to the old woman. “Lady Catelyn, let’s go home.” He grabbed a trembling Catelyn by the hand and led her to the cart. He helped her climb in and instructed the driver to take them back to Winterfell.

 

“What do you make of what she said?” Bronn asked her once they were safe inside the privacy of the wagon.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to believe it, but I’ve been in the North too long not to, at least, consider the possibility.”

 

Both lost in their thoughts they fell into a comfortable silence, the swaying movement of the cart slowly lulling them to sleep. Dutiful as ever, Bronn remained awake but Catelyn felt herself gradually giving in to her exhaustion, a combination of lack of sleep and overwhelming worry.

 

Listening to Catelyn soft snores Bronn started thinking about what the old woman had said. How did she know Catelyn was going to ask her about her son? As far as he knew, she had only mentioned it to him right before coming. How did she know about Bran’s visions and the voices? Maybe there was more to the Old Gods than he gave them credit for. Scary prospect, though, if Bran was really a vessel for these Northern Gods. He would have to keep an eye on the boy.

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft moan coming from the woman sleeping in front of him. _Interesting dream?_ he thought and laughed to himself. But then the moan turned into a whimper and she started tossing and turning in her seat.

 

“My Lady, wake up” he shook her gently, but to no avail. She continued to whimper softly and her expression hardened. “Catelyn, wake up” he said more forcefully this time. When her eyes opened, they were unfocused and she looked dazed.

“Bronn?” she whispered in fear.

“Yes, it’s all right. It was just a dream” he tried to sooth her. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked when her breathing slowed down.

She shook her head emphatically.

“Was it about Bran?”

She shook her head again and he looked at her pensively.

“I understand if you’re scared for your son, what the woman said and…”

“It was not about Bran!” she interrupted him. She took a deep breath. “It was about the Twins” she said in a low voice. “I .. I dream .. the wedding, Robb, what they did to me. I keep having nightmares.”

“Oh, Gods” he replied and sat next to her in her seat.

“I can’t talk to anyone about it. I haven’t told anyone what happened to me during my captivity. I do not wish for my children to know and I can’t tell my Uncle, though I think he suspects. Only you know. In my mind I keep going there. It keeps happening again and again in my head. I want it to stop, but it never will!” she started to sob. “You are the only one who knows. The only one who understands.”

“Come here” he said taking her into his arms. “Let it out” he encouraged her as he held her while she cried. He started rubbing her back tenderly and felt her arms circling around him in a tight embrace. She nuzzled her head against his shoulder and let her body relax enveloped by his warmth. Again, he felt that tingling sensation in his blood he always felt whenever she touched him. _I could kiss her. I want to kiss her. I want her and I believe she wants me too._

 

He looked down at her, ran his hand through her hair and kissed her temple. She looked up and as they locked eyes he felt her expression change and her body tense. _Yes, she does. She wants me too_. He bent down and kissed her lips and was pleasantly rewarded when she opened her mouth and let him in.

 

***************************************************

 

Arya woke up early the following morning and went to look for the rest of her family to break their fast together. She wanted to say goodbye to Jon, who was leaving for the Dreadfort together with a large host of the army led by Brynden Tully. The men of the Night Watch would be going to the Wall. Jon and the rest of the soldiers would join them at Castle Black once the problems at the Dreadfort were sorted out. Yet, when she arrived at the Dining Hall she found it empty. She went to Jon’s room and told him to hurry so they could eat all together one last time before he left. Then she went to get Sansa and told her to get Rickon. She knew Bran took a bit longer, so she decided not to bother him and give him more time. Her mother had returned late from the town the previous night, but was probably awake by now. When she arrived at her mother’s room she was surprised to find it locked. Years of mischief in Winterfell had taught her how to open the latch from the outside through a small crack at the door. Yet, once she opened the door, she wished she hadn’t. Her mother was sound asleep but she was not alone in her bed. Catelyn’s bare back faced the door and Arya could see a hand, a man’s hand, draped over her mother’s sleeping form. If Arya could see the skin on her mother’s back, that meant she was probably not wearing any clothes. _In bed naked with a man!_ she thought disgusted.

 

“Mother!” Arya yelled from the door.

Her mother woke up and groggily turned around. As soon as she saw Arya, Catelyn grabbed the blankets and covered herself.

“Arya!” she yelled embarrassed. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you so we could have breakfast all together before Jon left. But I see you’re busy” she replied and slammed the door behind her.

 

Arya hurried down the hallways to the Dining Hall and joined her siblings at the table. Bran and Rickon were already digging into their bowl of oatmeal, Jon was eating his bread and Sansa was nibbling at a lemon cake.

“I tried to wait for you and mother, but these were just too good” she apologized with a smile.

“Mother is not coming.”

“I’d better go” Jon said. “Tell her to come and eat with you, it’s alright. I’m leaving anyways.”

“It’s not because of you, stupid!” replied Arya.

“Arya!” yelled Sansa. “Apologize to Jon.”

“You’re not my mother!” she snapped. “And apparently I have no mother now.”

“Arya, what’s wrong?” Sansa asked. “Where’s mother?”

“In bed. With Bronn. Naked.”

“Are you sure?” Bran asked after a long uncomfortable silence.

“Why would she be naked? It’s cold. She always makes me wear extra clothes in bed” Rickon tried to reason. “Maybe she had a nightmare. When I can’t sleep I always ask her, or Osha or one of you to sleep with me.”

“That must be it” Sansa said and silently urged the rest to let the matter drop.

 

Their silent breakfast was interrupted by a presence at the door.

“Good morning” Catelyn greeted her children and Jon as she made her way to the table.

“Good morning, _indeed_ , mother” Sansa replied quizzically.

“Good morning mother” echoed Bran and Rickon.

“Lady Stark” Jon said unable to look at her eyes and keep a straight face.

Catelyn bit her lip and waited for Arya to say something, but all she did was get up and angrily stomp in the direction of the door.

“Arya come back” her mother pleaded.

“I saw you. You and Bronn.” Arya replied in an accusatory tone.

“And apparently you’ve already told your brothers and sisters” Catelyn muttered.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Arya continued to vent her anger. “Have you already forgotten about Father? How long have you been sleeping with Bronn?”

“Arya, stop. No, of course I haven’t forgotten your father! I love him with all my heart and always will. But Bronn has been good to me. He has helped me when I needed and we have become very good friends in the past months. And to answer your question, last night was the first night” Catelyn explained unable to hide the embarrassment from her face. “Arya, I never meant for you to find out like this. I’m sorry. But you shouldn’t barge into people’s rooms, especially if their doors are locked!”

“Well, if he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you” said Sansa trying to ease the tension.

“I like Bronn. He’s very strong” said Rickon.

“Arya, come back to the table, please” Catelyn begged her daughter.

“Does he make you happy?” she asked.

“He does.”

“I like him” she acquiesced. “So long as you don’t forget Father.”

“I won’t. Ever” replied her mother and they all sat down to finish their meal.

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah ... Catelyn and Bronn. I don't know if many people would like this pairing, but I think the poor woman deserves some love ...
> 
> Up next: the attack on the Dreadfort.
> 
> Comments are appreciated ... Thanks!!


	9. Battle at the Dreadfort

“Men of the North”, King Bran addressed the men in the yard as they were about to depart. “You are leaving to fulfil your duty to your King. We need to bring these people from the Dreadfort to justice. Both Roose and Ramsay Bolton have paid for their defiance with their lives. I want their widows and their heirs under my guard. We need to make sure they do not rise up against us again. We will rid these lands of the Boltons once and for all. Lord Jacken Umber will remain as the new Lord of the Dreadfort. Good luck to all and may the Old Gods of the North guide you on your way to glory”

 

More than three thousand men, under the leadership of Brynden “The Blackfish” Tully stood in formation and left through the Gates. Jon Snow had already bid farewell to his companions of the Night Watch, who had left earlier that day with Harrion Karstark and a small army, and was riding next to Alysane Mormont. She was enjoying the tales about her uncle, Lord Commander Jeor Mormont, that Jon was telling her.

 

Brynden Tully rode up next to Bronn. “What are your intentions?” he asked the sellsword, his voice not hiding his animosity.

“Excuse, my Lord?” replied a confused Bronn.

“Your intentions? With my niece?” the Blackfish explained.

“My intentions are honourable, Ser.”

“Do you love her?”

“I do”

“She has suffered enough as it is. If you hurt her, I’ll hunt you down…”

“No need for that, Ser” Bronn interrupted his threat. “I will never hurt her.”

“You know what was done to her at the Twins, don’t you?”

“I do, _I_ was the one who helped her get back on her feet after that. How do _you_ know? She never told you” Bronn retorted.

“She could never hide things from me” he answered not without a hint of sadness and nostalgia. “Not even as a young girl.”

“You need not worry about me, Ser. I’ll take care of her.”

“I’ll be watching you” Brynden Tully said menacingly. “She’s still my Little Cat and I would do anything for her.”

“That’s good. She will have two men looking out for her, then” he replied with a smirk.

 

It took them a few days to arrive at the Dreadfort and when they did, they were surprised to find a rider waiting for them.

 

“My name is Oswald Ryswell, I serve as captain of the Guards at the Dreadfort. We have heard of tidings at Winterfell and would like to peacefully surrender. Lady Walda Bolton wants no bloodshed on her House and would prefer to surrender without a fight. If you would please follow me” he said handing Brynden Tully his sword as a token.

 

Oswald Ryswell led the Northern army into the yard of the Dreadfort, yet as soon as they stepped inside the gates they were assaulted by a barrage of arrows coming from the walls and the battlements. Quickly they hid under their shields and rode to stand behind the stalls by the walls to avoid the flying arrows. A bloody battle soon followed. The people at the Dreadfort, being terribly outnumbered, used anything they could get their hands on as a weapon. The Northern army felt guilty fighting women and children armed with pitchforks. Be that as it may, the people at the Dreafrot were relentless in their efforts to beat the army from Winterfell.

 

Bronn felt his blood boil with excitement again. He had left his horse at the gates since he preferred to fight from the ground. He liked to look his enemies in their eyes. The surge of adrenalin he experienced in the battlefield was an emotion few things could surpass. He had always sold his sword to the highest bidder. Yet now he was fighting for a cause he believed in. _Fuck the cause, I’m fighting for her._ He had a reason to fight and a reason to get back home safely. His sword moved on its own, it was an extension of his mind hacking through bodies left and right. Suddenly he felt a blow to his head and slumped to the ground. When he turned around he realized it was just a boy throwing rocks at him. He tried to get up, but was forcefully held down by another two boys.

 

“I don’t want to have to kill you boys. Go play, instead, leave the fighting to the men.” Killing children was something he would be loath to do.

 

Yet, the only answer he received was a punch to the face and another punch to the stomach. He sensed rather than saw the boys turn and leave and when he looked up he saw Brynden Tully grabbing a boy by the hair and pushing him against a wall.

 

“My niece would kill me if you were to die here” he smiled. “Come on, stop playing around, there’s more Boltons to take care of.”

 

Brynden Tully tried to make his way through the sea of people surrounding him. An arrow hit him on the shoulder and another arrow hit his horse. His horse fell, bringing him down with it. As soon as he touched the ground he sprinted to his feet and just barely missed a sword aimed at his head. When he looked up, he saw it was a woman holding the blade. _These Northerners are a tough breed,_ he thought. She attacked him, but he swiftly moved sideways to avoid her blow and swung his sword down on her. Just as he was retrieving the sword from the woman’s body another attacker came at him and pushed him to the ground. He saw the blade coming down at him and then felt the weight of the man on top of him, but no pain. When he pushed the man off his body he saw blood coming out of the man’s throat and Jon Snow standing in front of him.

 

“We’re even now” he grinned at the Blackfish and offered him his hand.

 

Jon Snow and the Blackfish stood back to back eliminating as many men as they could. They saw their companions doing the same thing. As bloody and vicious as the fight was, it did not last long. Soon, it was Lady Walda herself who appeared at the balcony asking for the fighting to stop. She came down the steps and surrendered before Brynden Tully.

 

Most of the guards and soldiers still alive were rounded up, shackled and prepared for transport. The other members of the household were forced to swear fealty to Jacken Umber and his men. Both Lady Walda Bolton and Lady Selyse Baratheon were taken to a cart to be taken back to Winterfell as per Bran’s orders. Shireen Baratheon was crying next to her mother and was allowed to travel with her hands unbound. Lady Melisandre was nowhere to be found and when they asked about her nobody had seen her return after the Battle of Winterfell. She appeared to have vanished into thin air.

 

Having left five hundred men with Lord Umber at the Dreadfort, the Winterfell men returned home. King Bran immediately ordered the newly acquired prisoners to the dungeons and Ladies Bolton and Baratheon were to be kept locked up in a chamber in the West Tower.

 

Bran summoned his Council again in his solar. First he addressed his brother Jon Snow.

“About ten days ago we received a raven from King Tommen Baratheon in King’s Landing. He has sent an army of five thousand men to aid at the Wall. They should be arriving here within a fortnight. This army, plus the two thousand men who have already left with Harrion Karstark, and the ones you will be taking will give you about nine thousand men. I think that should be more than enough to beat the wildling threat at the Wall.”

“Thank you, Your Grace” Jon replied.

“How many men are we taking?” asked Howland Reed.

“ _You_ , Lord Reed” Bran addressed him “are to remain at Winterfell to advise me. The same with you, Uncle Brynden. You are my Hand and I want you here. Lady Alysane Mormont and Lord Marlon Manderly will join Lord Karstark at Castle Black with another two thousand men from Winterfell” he explained. Then he turned to his mother. “I want Bronn the Sellsword to go as well. He is one of the best fighters we have.”

“I will tell him, Your Grace” she replied.

 

The soldiers were given a few days to rest until the army from King’s Landing arrived led by the Kingslayer, Jamie Lannister, himself. Three days later a large host of men rode out of the Gates of Winterfell once more to go into battle. This time they were going to the confines the world as they knew it: the Wall that separates the realm of men from the mysterious Lands of the Beyond.

 

 TBC


	10. The Old Gods Speak True

Bran was sitting alone in his solar when Howland Reed approached him.

“Your Grace, one of the prisoners wishes to speak to you.”

“Can you deal with him?” Bran replied dismissively.

“He asked to speak to you in person.”

“Bring him in”

 

The man Lord Reed ushered into his solar was a short but well-built, aging man. The rags he wore did him no favours and made him look feebler than he probably was. His grey hair looked dishevelled and his unshaved beard unkempt. He reeked of the dungeons: waste, piss and sweat. He did not look like a soldier and Bran wondered what he was doing with the enemy army.

“My Lord” he started.

“Your Grace” Bran corrected him sternly.

“Your Grace,” the man started again. “I come here to ask for mercy..”

“You’ll get no mercy from me. You worked either with Stannis Baratheon or the Boltons to bring me down!”

“Your Grace, it is not for me that I ask for mercy. My name is Davos Seaworth, and I was Hand to Stannis Baratheon. I would like for you to reconsider Shireen Baratheon’s terms of imprisonment. She’s a young girl and had nothing to do with her father’s kingly ambitions or the Bolton misconceived uprising.”

“Why do you come to ask in her stead? And why should I grant her any mercy?”

“She means a lot to me. She is a kind girl. If you were to get to know her you would see so yourself. She is very bright and skilful. She has taught me how to read.”

“You were Stannis’s Hand and you couldn’t read?”

“As I said, she has taught me the letters.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“That is all I ask, Your Grace. You can do with me as you please, but for the love of the Gods you worship, please set her free.”

 

When Davos was gone, Bran started to ponder what to do with this girl Shireen. When he first saw her, he was struck by how elegant she looked, until he saw her grayscale ravaged face.

 

Suddenly he was not in his solar any longer …

 

_Winterfell. Yes, he could tell he was home, but it looked different. He looked at the throne room and saw a man wearing the crown, his crown. He looked familiar, but he didn’t know why. Robert. That was his name. How did he know this? Bran could not say, but he knew it. This Robert was holding court and his people were supporting him. He was a good King. He followed Robert as he left the throne room. He met with a woman, his wife, and then Bran could see his children. Robert had two daughters and a son. The young women were accompanied by two men, and the young man was wearing armour and appeared to be a knight. He continued following Robert and watched as he met with an older woman. She looked familiar, but at the beginning he couldn’t place her … until he saw her face. Her right side was covered in scales. Shireen Baratheon. Shireen was the mother of this King Robert. But, who was the father?_

_Bran continued his tour of Winterfell. He could see some of the old buildings had been renovated. There were new drapes in the windows and the tapestries had been redone - still showing the direwolf sigil, he proudly noticed. He didn’t recognize any of the people he saw: a new Maester, new soldiers, new cooks, new servants. He made his way to the gardens and was struck by the sunlight and the heat, the colorful flowers and the green in the trees. It was Summer. Winter was long gone._

_He found himself at the entrance of the crypts and made his way in. He stood in front of his father’s statue. “Eddard Stark”, it read, “brave and honourable Lord of Winterfell”. Next to his father he saw a statue with no tomb. “Robb Stark, First King in the North. The Young Wolf. Betrayed by his enemies, loved by his people” read the words engraved at the foot of the statue. Then he found another woman. He thought he recognized the face and then he read below the statue. “Catelyn Tully – Lady Catelyn Stark. She came from the South, she mothered the North.” He continued looking at the statues and saw his sister Arya. Apparently Arya had remained at Winterfell and become part of the Kingsguard. Rickon was right next to Arya. He could not find Sansa._

_But he was profoundly affected by what he saw next. A statue of a man in a wheelchair. Himself! Brandon Stark. He stared at the face and saw the likeness. That was him, no doubt. “King Brandon Stark. Brandon the Kingdom Maker. The blood of his enemies sustained his Kingdom.” Blood of his enemies? How many people had he killed? And he was suddenly assaulted with images of men hanging, men being beheaded, men dying in battle. Was I a bloodthirsty King? Was I cruel? Am I cruel?_

_Suddenly it all came to him. The voices in his head started to speak … “Shireen Baratheon, with this cloak I wed you and you become Queen Shireen Stark” … “First born son Robert Stark, hail the future King in the North” … “Lady Catelyn Stark passed last night in her bed surrounded by her beloved children and grandchildren.” … “Please welcome to Winterfell Lord Umber and his wife Lady Sansa.” …_

_“Bran” the voices kept saying. “Bran!”_

 

He opened his eyes and saw the face of his mother, just as he remembered her.

“Bran, sweetling, wake up. Please” she was shaking him.

“Mother?”

“Oh Gods, Bran! You scared me” she said almost in tears. “What happened?”

He said nothing for a moment trying to process everything he had just seen. He then turned to her. “Mother, am I cruel?” he asked.

“Cruel?” she echoed confused.

“Bloodthirsty?”

“Honey, why would you say such things?” his mother said, worry written on her face.

“Am I?” he needed to know.

“Bran, since you became King you have been a bit darker than used to. As a young child you were very sweet. But then you had the accident, you were left alone, you had to run away and go into hiding. And when you came back home, this crown and all these responsibilities were thrown at you. It’s understandable that you might get confused or that you might need some time to get your footing.”

“I need to speak to Shireen Baratheon.”

 

 

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Battle at the Wall against ... the wildlings? ... or something much darker?
> 
> Reviews and comments are appreciated ... Thanks!!


	11. The Ice King

With Winter quickly approaching, the journey to the Wall was proving to be most tiring: the snow made it more difficult for the horses and the foot soldiers, and the cold was taking a toll on men and animals alike. Only the direwoves appeared to be untouched by the weather. After the prophetic dream he had had, Jon had insisted on bringing the wolves with him back to Castle Black. He had a hunch they would have a role to play in the grand battle against the wildlings. Ghost was running next to him and so was Shaggydog, Rickon’s wolf. Summer, Bran’s wolf, was wandering around and would every so often approach his brothers.

 

After their long journey, finally setting their sights on the run-down black fortress at the bottom of the Wall was a welcome respite for the travelling party.

 

“Welcome back, Jon” his friend Samwell Tarly greeted him at the Gates of Castle Black. “Lord Commander Mormont has been waiting for you and a meeting has been assembled. Let me escort you to the Main Hall while the soldiers can rest and tend to their horses.”

“Thank you Sam. How have you been? Have the other men from Winterfell arrived? They left Winterfell a month before we did with Harrion Karstark.”

“Yes, the have. They are already North of the Wall” he started to explain as they made their way through the yard.

“Fighting the wildlings?”

“No. Things have changed, Jon”

“What do you mean?”

“It is not the wildlings we are fighting, it is the Others” he explained with fear in his voice.

“The Others” Jon repeated, visibly distraught.

“Umh, an explanation for those of us south of the Neck?” Jamie Lannister requested.

“Wights, undead, Ice Lords, The King of Ice” Sam replied.

“Oh, that explains it” Jamie replied sarcastically. “Have you seen them?”

“Yes. We had a ranging party go take a look. They are not far from here and their numbers exceed ours. Now with your help, our chances have improved greatly.”

“When do we fight them?” asked Lady Mormont standing next to Jon.

“We – We don’t” Sam stuttered. “Well, not yet, at least. Let’s go inside so Mormont can get you all up to speed” Sam said opening the door to the Main Hall.

 

As soon as Jon Snow stepped into the Hall, he was embraced and greeted by his old friends: Edd, Pyp, Grenn.

 

“Jon Snow, my Lords, glad you could make it in time” Lord Commander Jeor Mormont addressed the people walking into the Hall. “The men brought by Harrion Karstark have already been deployed and with the men you have brought with you we have a better chance. Now, did you really have to bring those beasts with you?”

“Thank you Lord Commander, I am glad to be back. Please let me introduce you to Lord Marlon Manderly and your niece, Lady Alysane Mormont,” Jon started to present his companions “members of King Bran Stark’s Council, and Ser Jamie Lannister and Loras Tyrell, trusted members of King Tommen Baratheon’s guard. As for the wolves, Lord Commander, I feel confident they will aid us in our plight against the wildlings or whatever threat it is we face now.”

“Well, you may be right. I assume Samwell Tarly has already told you of our tidings here at the Wall.”

“Some”

“We had a meeting with the Wildling King Mance Ryder. He swore they were not intent on killing us, they just wanted to cross the Wall. They wanted to run away. They were being attacked by the Others”.

“Creatures we had never seen before … demons … wights … creatures from tales of our Nans and grandmammas …” some of the other Brothers added.

“So yes,” continued Mormont “our enemy has changed. We are not fighting the wildlings. We are fighting the Others. Before you arrived here we had a vote. We have decided to join the Wildlings and fight this new enemy together. I spoke with Mance Ryder and I vouch for him. The decision was not unanimous, but it will stand” he continued, looking directly at Janos Slynt. “We will gather our forces and fight this new fiend. We have discovered they are not easily killed by our swords, lances and arrows. Fire can kill them, as Jon Snow could very well testify, as well as Valyrian steel. But dragonglass will do the job.”

“Do we have dragonglass?” asked Loras Tyrell.

“We are in the process of obtaining it. We are working with Mance Ryder’s people in a cave not far from here where ancient relics have been found. Among these relics we have found a substantial number of dragon glass blades and arrowheads. The cave also contains dragonglass imbedded deep within the rocks which we are in the process of retrieving.”

“Honourable knights turned miners siding with the savages” Janos Slynt muttered with disdain.

“The idea is for all the men and women to be armed with dragonglass,” continued Mormont ignoring Slynt, “be it with a sword, with arrows or with lances.”

“What about catapults?” asked Marlon Manderly.

“We could place catapults on the Northern side of the Wall. Rocks from these catapults will reach a far greater distance than any arrow shot from the top of the wall and cause considerably more damage” continued Jamie Lannister.

“Good idea. Let’s get to it, then. Ser Jamie Lannister, can your men be responsible for building the catapults?”

“Yes, Lord Commander. I’ll assign some of my men”

“Good. Ser Jamie and Ser Loras, can you aid in the training of the new recruits and the wildlings? Many of them are young and know not how to fight.”

“Yes Lord Commander.”

“My niece Lady Alysane and Marlon Manderly, I would like for you and your men to assist in the retrieval of dragonglass from the cave.”

“Of course.”

“Lord Commander, if circumstances have changed so, I believe our Kings should be apprised” advised Jamie Lannister.

“I know that, Ser. The letters have already been drafted. I was just waiting for your party to arrive so I could also inform the Kings of your safe arrival. The messages will go out today.”

 

Castle Black was buzzing with activity the likes of which it had not seen in centuries. An honourable order founded thousands of years ago, it had fallen into disgrace in the past decades, populated mostly with thieves and criminals who had chosen the Wall over death penalty or imprisonment. Most of the recruits had been taken from long-forgotten cells in dungeons all over Westeros. Gone were the days in which second sons of noble Houses would, of their own volition, come to the Wall to make a name for themselves and their families. With few notable exceptions, many of the Brothers of the Night Watch had never held a sword in their hands, did not know a thing about strategy, were never taught how to read or write and could barely follow simple instructions. On top of this, they now had to work alongside the wildlings, or free-folk as they called themselves. They were an assorted lot from different clans, with a different set of beliefs and sometimes even a different language. It was not an easy task to ask both parties to put aside thousands of years of rivalry and mutual enmity to be able to work together towards a common goal. How could one lead such a motley crew? Yet, Lord Commander Mormont fervently believed he was up to the task and that if at one point in the history of the Night Watch they were to align themselves with the wildlings, this was the time. … Thus, the plan was set in motion.

 

Three weeks later, when the horn was sounded signalling the coming of the Others, everything was in place: archers at the top of the wall holding flaming arrows with dragonglass heads; a well-prepared cavalry and thousands of foot soldiers wielding swords and battle axes speckled with dragonglass studs; wildling fighters whose weapons had been lined with dragonglass; thousands of untrained and unprepared new recruits and wildlings standing all along the wall ready to drop rocks or anything they could get their hands on; catapults at the foot of the Wall holding flaming rocks with pieces of dragonglass imbedded in them; and last but not least three fierce direwolves.

 

And so the battle began. Preceded by their battle cry, an ear-piercing screech, the incoming horde of creatures was a sight to behold. Behold and tremble. When they were within shooting range, the catapults unleashed their first load of flaming rocks. Caught up in flames but impervious to pain, the whitewalkers continued their march towards the Wall. The dragon glass in the rocks appeared to slow them down and many of them eventually succumbed to the fire. To roars of victory and seeing that their plan was working, the catapults launched a second load, and a third, soon followed by a fourth and a fifth. When the enemy was close enough, the archers took their turn. Many more whitewalkers fell to the fire and the dragonglass-studded arrows falling from the sky. However, for as many whitewalkers they killed, thousands more would show up and continue to march.

 

“They can’t get past us!” yelled Jon Snow. “Brothers to me! Charge!” his actions were mimicked by the Northern and the Southern army. Soon, they all came together in a bloody melee at the foot of the wall: the whitewalkers trying to get through, the newly-formed alliance trying to prevent it. The soldiers, albeit still a bit frightened, had by now become accustomed to the presence of the direwolves, and their aid was more than welcome as they tore apart the icy limbs, torsos and heads of the whitewalkers.

 

“We are the last line of defence!” “We guard the Realms of Men!” “For King Tommen!” “For King Bran!” “For Westeros!” different battle cries rang in the cold crisp air of the North.

 

The white snow soon turned red with the blood of the humans; body parts, missing limbs, and dying bodies strewn across the field. The Others were not faring much better. Dragonglass, fire and sheer human tenacity was taking a toll on these creatures and their numbers were slowly diminishing.

 

Jon had never felt prouder of being a member of the Night Watch. His fellow Brothers were fighting like there was no tomorrow. _If we lose today, there will be no tomorrow_ , he added grimly. Actually, all his companions - regardless of creed, banner or rank – were fighting like true warriors. He looked to his sides and could see wildlings fighting alongside Southern soldiers, Northern fighters assisting Brothers of the Wall, Brothers defending wildlings, Northern and Southern soldiers (who until recently had been butchering each other) helping one another. And to top it all off, they had added direwolves to the mix. _This is the new Westeros!_ he thought.

 

Longclaw in hand, he ripped through the whitewalkers who stood in his way like a hurricane, until he suddenly locked eyes with a taller, much stronger being. His eyes were dead cold, but had an eerie glow to them. So cold was he that his skin was blue rather than white. His long hair, white as snow, flowed freely in the wind. But what struck Jon the most were the horns on his head. So enthralled was he by this man’s appearance that he almost didn’t see the blade coming. He ducked just in time to avoid being split in two. As he got up to face his enemy, he felt his courage suddenly desert him. He took a deep breath and summoned all strength once again. His sword felt heavy in his arms, and not because of its actual weight – Valyrian Steel was indeed lighter than regular steel. _Longclaw shall not fail me_ , he promised and willed his sword to empower him. The two fighters locked eyes again and engaged in combat. It took all his strength to repel the blows from the Ice Lord with his sword, and he felt his energy slowly waning. Jon knew the Valyrian steel in his sword would hurt his enemy, but he was yet to land a blow. He heard rather than saw the Ice Sword come down at him and a particularly strong hit knocked him to the ground. He was unable to stop him this time. He took a quick peek around him and saw all his companions engaged in combat, nobody would be able to help him. _This is it_ , he thought. _I have fought bravely and I die honourably._

 

Just as he was saying his final prayers, one of the whitewalkers pushed the Ice Lord aside giving Jon time enough to get to his feet and assume an attacking position. Once again, he mustered all his courage and lunged forwards thrusting Longclaw into the Ice Lord’s chest. The being shrieked in agony and started to fall apart. First his arms became disentangled from his body, then his head looped sideways and fell on the ground. The rest of his body followed suit and soon he was nothing but a heap of ice bones on the snow. A sudden bewitching silence enveloped the forest. All the Others stopped fighting and stood paralyzed, becoming thus an easy target for the allied forces from South of the Wall. Without difficulty the men stabbed the frozen whitewalkers and they disappeared in a puff of cold air.

 

Jon took a second to look at the whitewalker who had just saved his life. Behind the creature stood the three direwolves howling and baring their teeth and Jon found it odd the animals would not attack the whitewalker. It was almost as if the direwolves stood together with this being. _Just like in my dream_ , he suddenly remembered _._ He studied the whitewalker. He thought he recognized the face. His eyes looked familiar. Ice grey hair in a braid, but it wasn’t always grey. He had a pin on the torn remnants of his ragged cloak: a direwolf. _Could it be …?_

 

“Uncle Benjen?” Jon asked and the being merely nodded. “You saved my life. Thank you. What happened? How did you become a white…?” but before he could finish his question he saw a sword protrude from what was once his uncle’s chest and he dissolved into dust.

 

“Saved your life, Jon Snow!” his friend Pyp grinned proudly. “This white walker could have killed you!”

“Yes Pyp, thank you” Jon smiled with a pang of regret. “You saved my life.”

 

“We won!” yelled the soldiers. “Victory!!” they roared. And the three wolves howled into the Winter sky.

 

 

After the celebration it was time to gather the bodies of their fallen comrades.

“Why do we need to burn them?” asked Jamie Lannister appalled as they were mounting the bodies in a pyre. “Why can’t we just bury them? It’s the least they deserve.”

“Not if you want for them to rest” replied Lord Mormont. He went on to explain how the dead rise in the night if they are not burned. Most of the Brothers of the Night Watch and the Wildlings had seen it happen with their own eyes and had suffered greatly because of these undead. They were not about to let it happen again.

 

“We all got together for the greater good. Men and women from the South, from the North, from beyond the Wall. People of the Seven, people of the Old Gods, people of the New Gods, people of the Ice Gods, we all share the glory and we all share the pain. We are one. Now, as one, we say goodbye to our friends. They fought bravely. They died honourably. And now their watch has ended” Lord Commander Mormont recited as he lit the pyre.

“And now their watch has ended” echoed the rest.

 

 TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please leave me a comment to let me know what you think so far. Thank you!


	12. Peaceful Times

“.. and that’s when we discovered Arya inside the big chest in my father’s solar.” Bran, Rickon, Arya and Sansa were sitting in the Library telling Shireen Baratheon anecdotes from their childhood. “She had been hiding there since morning, and Septa Mordane had gone frantic.”

“No she hadn’t!” complained Arya.

“Oh, yes she had” added Sansa. “She had been looking for you for hours and was afraid to tell Father you had gone missing.”

“And do you remember the day when we all decided to hide in the North Tower?”

“I remember watching from the window and seeing Mother and Father in the yard looking for us.”

“Everybody was looking for us and we were just hiding in the tower!”

“Yes! That was a lot of fun … but what came after certainly wasn’t … we were all sent to bed right away without supper.”

“I remember Bran was crying like a baby!”

“No I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were! But, truth be told, you were practically a baby. You should have seen him Shireen” continued Sansa. “He was such a cute little boy.”

“Momma’s favourite” Arya mocked him sticking her tongue out.

“I wasn’t her favourite.”

“Yes you were” said Arya. “She never scolded you and she was always scolding me!”

“For a reason!” exclaimed Sansa. “Arya, you were insufferable as a child!” and the Stark children burst into laughter.

“I love hearing all these stories about your childhood” Shireen said with a tinge of nostalgia. “I wish I had had siblings to play with. I know my father loved me dearly, but he was hardly home, and my mother” she paused trying to look for the right words, “my mother loves me, of that I’m sure, but I don’t think she always knew how to show it. I look at the way your mother talks to you and looks at you and I wish … I wish my childhood had been different. All I had was Patchface. He was fun and all, but it’s not the same.”

“Well, now you have us” Bran told her. “You can be part of our family.”

“Can she be our sister?” an excited Rickon asked.

“It’s not that easy, Rickon”

“Besides, I am your prisoner” Shireen added.

“Not any more” replied Bran. “Do you feel like a prisoner?”

“No, Your Grace” she replied after taking some time to gather her thoughts. “You let me go and have indeed granted me freedom within the walls of your castle, but my mother is still locked up.”

“You’re not a prisoner Shireen” he reassured her. “I would like for you to feel part of Winterfell. You are a guest now, not a prisoner.”

“Growing up we were always surrounded by friends. But now, after the war and everything, most of them are gone. Both Arya and I would love to have you as a friend.”

“Thank you Sansa” replied the Baratheon girl. “I do feel welcome here. And it’s a lot nicer than the Dreadfort!”

“I’ve never been there, but I’ve heard it’s horrid!” said Bran.

“They flay men there!” added Arya

“Arya, don’t speak such nonsense” her sister scolded her. “We don’t know that to be true!”

“It is!”

“We don’t know!”

“Well, still it’s gloomy and scary” Shireen decided to intervene, being the only one to actually know the place. “I hated it the whole time we were there. And I did hear loud screams at night,” she said with a grimace “but I never did go out and try to see what that was about”

“They flay men, they tie them to the wall and they start cutting away at their bodies” Arya started listing atrocities with a dreadful glee in her eyes. “First they start with the arms, but they don’t sever them off completely. Then they carve a hole where the navel is and when they remove the belly-button, all your intestines fall off” she continued looking directly at Rickon. “Then they stick their hands inside your body through the hole and they tickle you from the inside” she continued getting closer to her young brother. She slid her hand up his belly and started tickling him softly. “Then the hand comes out through the nose and they rip off your eyes!” she finished pinching his nose and softly poking his eye.

The poor boy snuggled deeper into his older sister’s arms.

“Arya, stop it. You’re scaring him!” Sansa said while trying to soothe Rickon.

“I’m sorry Rickon. I was just kidding” she apologized.

He only managed to nod slightly with his petrified face, his eyes wide open betraying his fear. “Is – Is that true? Do they do that?” he managed to ask.

“No you silly boy! I made that up!”

 

They were interrupted by Catelyn who came to announce that a raven had arrived. Bran wheeled his chair out of the Library and followed his mother to the Solar.

 

“You seem to have become awfully close with Shireen. Letting her go was a good decision, Bran.” When he merely nodded noncommittally, she continued. “I’m not questioning your actions, but you never did tell me why you did it.” When no answer was forthcoming, she tried again. “Do you enjoy her company? It looks to me you all do. I guess it’s good for Arya and Sansa to have a girl friend to spend time with, and Rickon seems to like her, too. She seems very friendly. And you all seem to like having her around, especially since most of the children you used to play with are gone.” Bran remained silent and she looked questioningly at her son. “Bran?”

“Yes mother, she is nice to be with.”

“Bran” she prodded again. It was very difficult to keep a secret from their mother; she always seemed to know. “Why did you let her go?”

“Because I want to be a merciful King” he tried.

“Yet, you left her mother locked up” she retorted. Bran stopped his wheelchair and his mother crouched next to him. “What did you see, sweetling? In your vision that day?”

“I saw us” he said with fear in his voice. “Well, not us. I saw another King, and Shireen was his mother. Then I saw my grave in the crypts. I saw all our graves, mother. Yours, Father’s, my brothers and sisters’. It was creepy, Mother.”

“I’m sure it was, honey” she said placing her hands on his useless legs. She caressed his face and gave him a kiss on his forehead. “We will all die at one point. Some die before their time” she trailed with a sad sigh and Bran knew who she was referring to, “and we will all go into the crypts.”

“I wish I knew how to interpret all these visions. They scare me sometimes. They confuse me.”

“So, did your vision include Shireen then? Is that why you let her go?”

“I think I married her.”

“Really?” she smiled. “Do you like her?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know her until a couple of months ago. I do enjoy her company now.”

“Well, that’s a good start. Now, as for these visions … the Gods speak to us. That’s why they are Gods. You know I pray to my Seven daily. They have not answered all my prayers. But they have answered enough. They have given most of my family back to me when I thought I had none left. Maybe the Northern Gods, the Old Gods are similar. Your father spent a good deal of his time talking to them. Maybe they do speak to you, sweetling.” The words of the seer in the forest came back to her.

“If they do, I don’t always understand what they say.”

“How long have you been having these visions?” she asked trying not to show him the uncertainty she was feeling.

“Since I fell from the Tower. I had visions of you when you were in the South.”

“I missed you when I was away” she said tucking his hair behind his ear.

“Do you think I should marry Shireen? She’s the daughter of the man who attacked us.”

“My opinion of family names and heritage has changed. And times have changed, too. The King in the South is a friend to you and your Kingdom is secure. We do not live in a time when we need political alliances. When your Father and I married, we married for an army. I was actually supposed to marry his brother. We didn’t even know each other, but we built our marriage together. You can have this with Shireen if you want, or with any other girl.”

“I do like her Mother” he admitted. “When we are together, I feel this tingling sensation inside. I can even feel my legs, well not my legs precisely, but in between my legs.”

“Between your legs?” she asked raising her eyebrows.

“Yes, and I wanted to ask Maester Nokes about it. Maybe it means I will eventually regain the feeling and the use of my legs.”

“Oh, honey!” she hugged him. “I think it just means you’re growing.” He was no longer the scared ten-year-old boy who had been returned to her. Time had passed and he had grown. _You should talk to your father_ , she would say. But his father was dead. _You should ask your older brother_ , but Robb was also gone. “Ask the Maester if you will. He’ll give you the answers you need.”

“Is this what men feel when they are in love?” he suddenly asked.

“Are you in love?” she smiled.

“Maybe. But Maesters do not fall in love, he wouldn’t know what to tell me. I could ask your uncle. Has he ever been in love?”

“I don’t know!” she laughed. “He never married and he never spoke of women as far as I know.”

“Bronn is in love. I could ask him.”

 

She took a deep breath and motioned for them to keep going. “Come on, your Council is waiting. Let’s go see about this message.”

 

 

When they entered the Solar, Bran found Maester Nokes, Lord Reed and his Hand seated around the table, waiting for him. He manoeuvred his chair to the head of the table and his mother sat down on an empty chair to his side. He was eager to receive news about what had transpired at the Wall, and looking at their faces he could see they were just as anxious as he was. He took the parchment and examined the seal. It came from Castle Black and it was unbroken. They had waited for him.

 

_To: King Brandon Stark_

_From: Lord Commander Jeor Mormont_

_We have prevailed. Victory is ours. Unfortunately it did not come without cost. We have suffered great casualties._

_As per our arrangement, the Wildlings have been awarded the land at the Gift just south of the Wall. Each clan will have their own town. They will swear allegiance to King Brandon Stark of the North, but will be allowed to retain some of their customs._

_The armies of Winterfell and King’s Landing will be returning shortly. It is with pleasure that I announce that many of the men have decided to stay at Castle Black and become Brothers of the Watch. With their addition we will be able to reopen some of the other fortresses along the Wall._

_Yours truly,_

_Jeor Mormont, Lord Commander of the Night Watch._

 

“That is indeed good news!” exclaimed Howland Reed when Bran finished reading.

“Yes it is!” celebrated the Blackfish. “I just hope these Wildlings on our doorstep cause no problems to the Kingdom”

“According the Lord Commander, they are _no longer_ a problem” replied Bran. “They actually fought alongside our men and the men of the Night Watch.”

“You sound confident, Your Grace. I truly hope you are correct. Being from the South, there is little knowledge we have on these people, just tales and myths” the Blackfish retracted his doubts. “We have cause for celebration now” he added excitedly.

“He mentioned casualties” Catelyn reminded them. “Did he mention any names?”

“Are you afraid for anyone in particular, dear niece?”

“No” she replied hesitantly. “I’m concerned about all our men.”

“He’ll come back. He’s a good fighter” he told her reassuringly. “And I don’t think he will choose to remain celibate at the Wall, will he?” he teased her.

“Uncle” she warned him silently.

“Lord Commander did not mention any names” Bran spoke up trying to save his mother an embarrassing moment. “We don’t know who we lost in the fight, nor who decided to stay at the Wall. And I don’t think we’ll know until they get back”

 

After the letter from Castle Black arrived, the days went by very slowly as they waited for their men to return. When they finally did, it was to the beat of victory chants and the drum of welcoming cheers. They had a big celebration feast before the Southern army left for King’s Landing.

 

Music. Dancing. Food. Drinks. Jugglers. Mummers. Singers. The grand feast lacked nothing and provided a great opportunity for everybody to celebrate.

 

Catelyn was happy to be able to hold Bronn and to be held by him.

“I was afraid I might lose you” she told him as they were dancing.

“Nah, fighting is my element. Besides, I had many reasons to get back” he said and gently squeezed her buttocks through her dress and looked down at the cleavage of her dress.

“Bronn!” she exclaimed feigning offence, but in truth, after everything she had been through, it felt good to be loved again and to be the centre of somebody’s attention. She needed that and it brought her comfort. She didn’t know if she loved Bronn, certainly not the way she had loved Ned – the way she still loved Ned. But Bronn made her feel wanted, and she indeed felt a certain attraction to him and revelled in his company. She hadn’t felt like that towards a man since Ned. She loved the time they spent together, their conversations, their understanding of each other, and the way he made her feel at night in bed.

“Your son came to me. He had a question.”

“Oh, yes. He had some _issues_ he needed help with. Did you talk to him?”

“Yes” he nodded.

“He needed his father or his older brother, but ..” she said before her voice faded. There was still pain whenever she thought about her husband and her firstborn. But she had to endure. She still had people to love and they were what kept her going. 

“But I will do” he finished for her. “Look, I don’t intend to take your husband’s place, but I’m glad to be of service. Bran’s a good lad, and so is the young one. Your girls are beautiful and will make great ladies one day, even the little wild one” he said, and her smile mirrored his own. “It was you who made them the way they are. I mean to be part of that and do my bit to help them and you.”

“You are helping Bronn. I don’t know what I would have done without you” she said resting her head on his chest. She felt his arms circle around her back and his head on her hair.

 

 

The Southern army left not long after the feast. With the Northern Kingdom already established, no rebel factions to be fought, no threats from beyond the Wall, and no skirmishes with their Southern neighbouring kingdom, Bran felt no need for such a large army to remain at Winterfell. The Northern Lords were allowed to return to their Houses and take most of their soldiers with them. Only a small contingent was left at Winterfell for the Royal Guard. These were peaceful times and they had better enjoy them while they lasted.

 

Whether Bronn’s words had an impact on Bran or not, the young King certainly became closer to the Baratheon girl and felt confident that, if the visions told him to marry her, he thoroughly approved of the Gods’ choice. They started spending more time together and were usually seen together even without the company of the other Stark children. Rumours of their romance started to spread around Winterfell until Bran decided it was time to put the rumours to rest. … He proposed to Shireen Baratheon and, with both their mothers’ approval they agreed to marry once they became of age.

 

King Brandon Stark and Queen Shireen would reign in peace for many years, enjoying the friendship of their counterparts in the South, King Tommen Baratheon and Queen Margaery.

 

THE END

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all very much for reading.
> 
> Sequel with Danaerys invading Westeros ...? mhhh, maybe ... maybe not, I'm not so fond of Dany and her arch ... Let's just say she stays in Essos for now ;)
> 
> Comments are appreciated. It doesn't have to be a long review or anything, just a short note to let me know you've read the story. Just a smiley face will do (or angry face if you hated it). Thanks!


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